


Miracles are hard work

by Slaskia



Series: Karmaverse [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Loss, Difficult Decisions, Evil Plans, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Loss, M/M, Manipulation, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secrets, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Therapy, Worry, impulsive actions, life support, long distance medicine, subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 45,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaskia/pseuds/Slaskia
Summary: It was a miracle he was found alive.  Question is, how many more will be needed to KEEP him that way?
Relationships: Wheeljack/Ebonscream (OC)
Series: Karmaverse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1313087
Comments: 211
Kudos: 10





	1. Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline wise, this fic starts just before Chapter 161 of 'Karma'. While that fic is not necessary required to read before this one, it would be a good idea (but, just to warn you, the rating on 'Karma is Mature, borderline Explicit). That said, 'Secrets in Dark Places' IS recommended, as it's a direct lead up to this one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet receives the one call he wishes had been made sooner...at LOT sooner....

Ratchet stared at the comm screen, hardly able to believe his optics. On it was his old friend, Hammercircuit, but it was what was behind _him_ that made the old medic nearly have a spark attack. Of all the times for a case like this to show up! In only a few hours he likely wasn’t going to even _be_ on Cybertron anymore. While he wouldn’t be necessarily out of reach, this kind of case was an ‘all medics on deck’ one.

“Vitals?” he asked once he got his processor to recover from shock.

//Spark was reading only at half output when we arrived,\\\ Hammercircuit replied grimly. //It’s gone up since we hooked up a fresh power source to the pod. As for the frame….\\\ The Wrecker medic sighed. //Mixed bag, at best. Ventilation appears to be fine, can’t get a read on the neural and sensor nets so that’s unknown and circulatory system is offline.\\\

Ratchet blinked at this. “Wait…there is no energon flow at all?”

//None we can detect, and the feeding tanks were empty.\\\

“How, by the AllSpark, is he even still alive!?”

//We don’t’ know, Ratch.\\\ Hammercircuit was shrugging helplessly. //The other odd thing? The suspension fluid he’s in is…devoid of any compound that would aid in continuing life.\\\ 

Ratchet drew back in shock. _What the frag?_ Then a possible explanation hit him. “Can you send me his spark signature?”

There was a nod and a few moments later he got a ping his HUD. Ratchet quickly brought up the data and transferred it to a monitor. His optics narrowed at what he saw. “Hook,” he called out softly and once the Constructicon was beside him, he asked. “Look at this and tell me what you see.”

It didn’t take long for the Constructicon to reply. “This spark has the markers of an outliner,” he announced. Ratchet nodded in agreement.

//Did I just hear that right?\\\ Hammercircuit queried. //An outliner?\\\

“It is the only explanation as to why he’s still alive after all this time,” Ratchet replied, turning back to the comm. “But from how you described his spark earlier, whatever this ability is has it’s limits. Is his spark chamber sealed?”

//From what we can tell, yes,\\\ Hammercircuit replied. //However, the presence of two impeded objects in his torso worry me. Particularly the one in the upper right chest.\\\

Ratchet had to agree. That rail spike was likely the _only_ reason there was still a seal in the upper torso. Which means any movement of the body may compromise said seal. Moving this mech anywhere was going to be tricky and taking him out of that pod was out of the question until he was in a sterile location. Ratchet tapped his chin in thought.

“You will need a gelling agent,” he announced. “It should cushion and restrict the body’s movement enough for transport. You’ll also need the appropriate equipment to move the pod, are there any in your location?”

//None that are in a state I trust to use,\\\ Hammercircuit replied with a sigh. //And we are not exactly in a location that sells gelling agents…let alone in the quantities we will need.\\\

Ratchet rubbed his face and sighed himself. Like this poor mech needed more complications! “Do you have the means to transport him a long distance?” he asked.

//Fortunately, yes,\\\ Hammercircuit replied. //I can send him and another to get the supplies we need, but that still doesn’t solve the lack of useable lifepod crane….\\\

And that was a big problem. Without a crane, that pod wasn’t going anywhere. Even if they had one, the operator would have to be very delicate and precise. Delicate and precise are not exactly Wrecker MOs…..

Wait. Of course! He hated to have to pull him into this but, he may be this mechs best chance. “Is Wheeljack with you?”

There was a dismissive snort as Hammercircuit stepped aside just enough to show said Wrecker standing by the pod, looking up at it with a mix of relief, sorrow and desire. Gearbolt was close by, glaring at him.

//Had to threaten to give him a pair of scalpel earrings if he touched it…,\\\ Hammercircuit grumbled.

Ratchet couldn’t fault Wheeljack for that, from what little he knew about their relationship. He could only imagine the anxiety Wheeljack must feel, knowing that one slip…one mistake…and Ebonscream would be lost for good.

//Why?\\\ Hammercircuit’s question brought him back to the immediate problem. At the same time he got a message from Optimus. He had a feeling on what that message was about.

“We have a _mutual_ acquittance,” Ratchet replied. “That can solve the equipment problem…though he’s quite a ‘shifty’ fellow.”

Hammercircuit was blinking, then nodded understanding. //I’ll have him make contact. Will you be able to assist us?\\\

At this Ratchet opened Optimus message and got the confirmation to his suspicions. “Unfortunately, I have other critical matters to attend to. My equipment, however, will be available for your use.”

His old friend took a step back, then closed his optics and nodded. He could tell there was more he wanted to say but could not risk doing so without blowing their plan. //We will do the best we can in your absence.\\\

“Our contact may have something that may assist you as well,” Ratchet pointed out. “Good luck.”

//Thanks, Ratchet…we’re gonna need it.\\\

Once the line went dead, Ratchet vented out a long sigh. He wanted to stay to work on this case, not only so he could work alongside his old friend once more, but to ensure Ebonscream pulled through. He prayed to Primus he pulled through…not just for Wheeljack’s sake, but for all the slaves they will have to leave behind. For he knew Ebonscream wasn’t the type to allow slavery of any kind to stand unchallenged.

Hmm…perhaps there was _one_ more way he could be of assistance. Ratchet quickly moved to his inventory database and checked his database. Drat, he didn’t have one on hand, he’ll have to order one.

Hopefully, Ebonscream won’t need it, but from what he could see of the condition of his body, Ratchet’s tank told him he would….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like in 'Karma' I'll use this space to explain character inspirations/origins as needed.
> 
> Hammercircuit and Gearbolt are both OCs and both originated in the 'Wreckers and Sirens' series of 'Astral Aligned'. Hammer in 'Intervention' and Gear...I forget exactly, I think 'Siege'?  
> Ebonscream is also an OC, first appearance being 'Prisoner' in the 'Wreckers and Sirens' series. In addition, sense it's not likely going to be 'named' in fic anywhere, his outliner ability is 'adaptation'.


	2. Shifting Situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rustshift does a HUGE favor for the Wreckers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn't post this today, as I realized this hasn't 'happened' yet in 'Karma' just yet. Which means...well, you'll have to figure it out ;)

He was alive.

That was the phrase that kept running through Rustshift’s head as he sat in the cargohold of Jetfire, leaning against the wall. It was the only logical explanation why Wheeljack was practically _pleading_ for him to help them. Why he heard so much desperation and near panic in the Wrecker’s voice.

By some miracle, Ebonscream was alive and he was needed to help ensure he _stayed_ that way. It was an honor, yet the shifter could feel the incredible weight upon his shoulders and spark. One slip up…and Wheeljack may never forgive him. He breathed a long sigh, feeling both eager for the challenge, yet dreading the fallout if he failed.

“I know what you are thinking, kid,” Kup’s voice broke into his thoughts. “And you’re not the only one that’s worried about that.”

Rustshift looked up toward the senior Wrecker, whom was leaning against a stack of crates. He didn’t know what was in them, didn’t ask, but he could safely assume it was supplies needed for this task. “How…how bad is he?” he dared to ask, if only to confirm his suspicions.

The Wrecker’s optics widened, but then he closed him as he sighed. “Pretty bad,” he finally answered. “Gear told us that a month or two…if that…and the generator the pod was hooked up to would have gone kaput. Body is not in good shape either: medics will have their work cut out for them.”

_Provided we can get him to a sterile clinic in one piece…_. It was information he needed to know, but it just made the task ahead that much more daunting.

“He’ll pull through…he’s gotta,” a new voice spoke up. Barely seen the shadow of the crates was a small bike femme. Her frame was all black, the only other color on her was her blue optics and silver Wrecker insignia. “We need him…Primus…we needed him back long ago….”

“I know, Eclipse,” Kup agreed. “We were fortunate Flashwing was able to give us a direction to resume the search….”

The floor and walls of the shuttle former suddenly rattled with a growl. “Flashwing?” Jetfire growled through a speaker. “I find it hard to believe that slagger did something _good_ for once!”

“He’s not the same mech you once knew him as, Jetfire,” Rustshift countered, remembering Flashwing’s history with the shuttleformer. “His time as a slave opened his optics.”

“Humph!” Another rattle through the floor and walls. “A mech like him needs to be in the Pit! If I get my hands on him….”

“Focus on getting to our destination, not on how many ways you want to rip a fragger apart!” Kup reprimanded, lightly pounding on a wall.

“Fine,” Jetfire snorted before going silent.

_Oh boy…Flash wasn’t kidding when he said Jetfire and the rest of Skywarp’s trine had it out for him…._ Making amends with that group was going to be a very uphill battle he suspected. He decided to keep the fact that Flashwing was very much in bed with both him and Berylstar to himself….

About an hour later they landed, with a few Wreckers standing outside waiting. Rustshift made himself useful by transforming into a motorized trolly. 

“Hammercircuit.” He heard Kup speak up as the crates were loaded onto him. “Were you able to clear out safe route?”

“As best we could,” a grey and yellow mech replied. “Some debris we couldn’t move without compromising structural integrity. Will be a tight fit in one spot for sure.”

:How big is the pod?: Rustshift asked. :So I have an idea on how much ‘wiggle room’ I’ll have beforehand.: Once he was given the dimensions he thought it over a moment. :Scrap…I may have to get creative if some places are as tight as you imply.:

“You’ll see for yourself once we are inside,” Hammercircuit sighed. “Eclipse and Jetfire, stay out here and make sure we don’t have any unwanted ‘help’.”

With the crates now fully loaded, Rustshift followed them into the lab. He quickly noticed there were fresh markers on the wall, indicating on where to go. Rustshift had heard Quintesson labs were designed to be maze-like, so that was likely why. Unfortunately, this meant a lot of turns and making turns with an oversized object in tow would be tricky in some places even if the lab was in pristine condition. Thankfully, the one ‘trouble spot’ Hammercircuit had eluded to wasn’t in a turn, but a straight corridor.

After a nearly ten minutes, they finally reached their destination. While the crates were unloaded, Rustshift studied the lifepod. From what he could tell, the support structure of the pod itself was sound, the occupant though? He could see why the Wrecker’s were worried about this move: Ebonscream looked like he could fall part at the slightest disturbance. Primus, once he gave Berylstar the full details, it will likely inspire the mech and he’d no doubt come up with new solutions for situations like this.

“Thought ya were bringing a shifter, bub,” a new voice belonging to a green and black bot grumbled as the supplies were offloaded. “Not a fancy trolly….”

“Who do you think _is_ the trolly, dumbaft,” Kup sighed in response.

He took that has his cue. :Greetings, my name is Rustshift,: he introduced himself, causing the Wrecker to jump back with a startled yelp, prompting a few chuckles from the others.

“Fraggin’ hell…,” the mech groaned. “At least Eclipse wasn’t here to see that…”

“Don’t worry, Ricochet, I’ll shoot her the memory file!” a one-opticked blue helo purred.

“Aw, frag you, Whirl! I get enough ribbing from her!”

“You’re welcome!”

By then the crates were unloaded, so Rustshift shifted back into default mode. He had barely stood fully upright when he had a familiar short white bot clinging to him. “Thank you…,” Wheeljack was saying, his voice a mix of relief, stress and exhaustion.

“Don’t thank me unless we succeed, Jackie…,” Rustshift told him softly, patting his shoulder. He looked at the lifesupport pod and vented a long anxious sigh. “I’ll do the best I can.”

“That’s all I ask!” Wheeljack whimpered, hugging him tighter.

“Aww, lookit guys! Wheeljack’s become a huggamuffin!” Whirl quipped. Wheeljack finally let go, if only to flip Whirl off, to which Whirl simply giggled.

“Thought you were taking a nap, Jackie,” Hammercircuit remarked as he unpacked the crate contents, muttering something about getting ‘too much’.

“Couldn’t settle down…,” Wheeljack sighed. “Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until…don’t know….” He was looking at the pod longingly.

“If we have to, we’ll give you a sleep aid,” the medic remarked as he tossed a couple of canisters to another bot that was next to the pod, whom he assumed was the other Wrecker medic. “Let’s put this in slow, we know this stuff expands and we don’t want to risk the pod cracking on us.” He then looked at him. “Ratchet said you had something for us, Rustshift?”

“Yes,” Rustshift replied as he took the datadisk out of his subspace and tossed it to him. “It contains all of his knowledge.”

“Primus bless you Ratchet…,” Hammercircuit sighed. “This should help us lots.”

“What are you putting in the pod?” he asked.

“Fast acting gelling agent,” was the response. “To help keep him immobile during the transport.”

“Would it even react to the solution in the tank?”

“That solution is pretty much water now, so no worries there.”

Rustshift simply nodded, for now only able to watch and wait. As he did, he continued working out the best means do his part. He was certain he’ll have to do some shifting while the pod was on his ‘back’, so he’ll have to restrict his transformation movements to prevent any mishaps. This was going to going to really test his transformation abilities…

After a few minutes, the solution in the tank visually changed slightly as the gelling agent activated, soaking it up and expanding. The Wrecker medics gradually added more and more of the substance, until almost all of the solution was absorbed. Ebonscream was now encased in gelatin and the medics gave him a thorough once over to ensure he was still sound. They then directed the others to start loosening most of the various bolts and clamps that held the pod in place. Hammercircuit then nodded toward him.

He took a deep intake, then vented it out slowly before shifting into a crane that had a bed to set the pod upon. Then he extended the crane’s claw hand and carefully gripped the pod. Once he confirmed he had the pod securely in his grasp, did they finish the detachment process. 

Now the only thing still attached to the pod itself was a cable from portable generator the Wrecker’s had hooked up to it. This meant he was the only thing supporting the pod itself. Rustshift felt a spike of anxiety upon realizing this and took a moment to calm himself before moving the pod away from it’s former setting. Once completely clear, he reoriented the pod so it was horizontal and started moving it toward the bed.

“Ohgodohgod,” Wheeljack was whimpering, his hands to his mouth. “Be careful…oh god…is it slipping? It’s slipping…I’m sure it is!”

“Jackie, it’s fine, it’s secure,” Hammercircuit was assuring him. Still, Rustshift doubled checked his tactical sensors in the claw hand to be sure, then added a couple more grip ‘fingers’ around the pod to be extra safe.

Oops. That had changed his center of gravity a bit too much, thus he was started to tip forward from the weight of the pod. :Scrap!: he cried out in alarm.

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” Wheeljack shrieked, the small wrecker practically flying toward his rear. He felt him grab it and use his weight to keep him from tipping any further. Once a couple of other Wrecker’s joined in, they were able to push his rear back down and keep him there.

With the Wrecker’s literally having his back, he was able to maneuver the pod onto the bed with any more balance issues. He then shifted his body, forming support bands around the pod while turning rest of himself into tracked vehicle. On a whim, he made the bed of this hybrid mode adjustable for the tighter turns.

“Alright, two in front, two in back,” Hammercircuit barked. “Gearbolt and I will handle the generator and keep an optic on his vitals.”

“The rest of you grab the supplies,” Kup added. “We don’t want to leave any trace of our presence here in case our ‘friends’ in the government change their minds about verifying our informant’s story.” Rustshift then felt the senior Wrecker pat him on the side. “Alright kid, time to take him outside.”

:Yeah…no pressure or anything,: Rustshift commented with a nervous laugh before getting moving.

He had to make a few adjustments to his arrangement when they got to the first turn. Couldn’t quite make the turn and nearly bumped the pod on the corner in the process. This naturally got Wheeljack freaking out bad enough that Bulkhead had to sit on him. At least until Rustshift had made the necessary adjustments to complete the turn. After that corners were largely no issue, though Wheeljack kept squeaking each time he had to drive over debris that they couldn’t remove. It he hadn’t been so busy trying to focus, he would have ribbed his friend a bit about the noises he was making if only to lighten the mood. Surely someone else would be keeping a memory file on it.

Then they got to the ‘tight spot’: an area where the walls had partly caved in. Now that he actually had the pod in tow, he had to reevaluate his original idea. Carefully he shifted, elongating himself and lowering the pod almost fully between the tracks, giving the pod and himself as much clearance as possible. Like before, he made sure he could adjust the pod on the fly, just in case.

Rustshift could feel the tension from the Wrecker’s as he started slowly moving through. Primus, this was tight: some parts of his frame were scrapping against the collapsed walls. He quickly shifted some visual sensors to check the clearance for the pod. So far so good.

Then he heard a sound he didn’t like. Metal groaning and creaking underneath him. It felt like the floor was starting to sink….

“Primus…sinkhole….” He heard Wheeljack whisper with dread.

“Everyone back off…slowly…lessen the weight on the area,” Kup commanded.

“What bout Ebony and Rusty?” Wheeljack protested.

“We’ll think of something, just stay calm.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wheeljack whined, his statement echoing his thoughts as he racked his processor for a way out of this situation.

He could keep moving, but how fast? Too fast would cause a failure…but too slow and it could fail before he made it to safety.

“How’d a sinkhole form up here anyway?” Ricochet was grumbling.

“Tunnel Crawler, most likely,” Whirl remarked. “Bastards love digging tunnels in inconvenient places.”

Tunnel Crawler…of course! :Thanks, Whirl!: he announced before making some quick calculations.

“Huh…for whaoooo-“ The one-opticked Wrecker was cut short when Rustshift carefully shifted himself into a modified version of a Tunnel Crawler. A long, flexible cylindrical body with lots of legs and the pod safely nested in the middle, surrounded by armor plating. It was just a matter of scuttling through the rest of the way, the many legs distributing his weight enough to prevent a collapse. Once he was through, the Wrecker’s behind him quickly went through as well.

“Jackie, you didn’t tell me he could become animals too!” Kup was chiding once everyone was safely through.

:You should see my predacon impression!: Rustshift remarked as he continued on, prompting a ‘what the frag’ from the Wrecker.

Oh this was so much easier. Debris and corners were no problem! He actually had to slow himself down so that the medics could keep up with the generator. Still, in no time, they were outside. Where he was greeted by shriek of fright from Eclipse, whom looked like she was about to blast his face off.

“Of all the fragging Primus Pit spawned slaggers to turn into!” the bike frame shrieked, which put Ricochet into a giggle fit.

:My apologies, but it was the most efficient form to take at one point,: Rustshift explained.

“Bah…j-just don’t stay like that for the whole trip back please…,” Eclipse whined, rubbing her arms. “My plating is crawling just lookin’ at ya….”

:Awwww.: Rustshift shifted himself into something less…buglike, once he had boarded the waiting Jetfire. Still with a lot of ‘legs’, but more stationary with the goal of absorbing the shakes from turbulence. 

Once all the ‘essential’ individuals and supplies were onboard, Jetfire took off. The rest of the Wreckers, he was told, would make their own way back. He did hear Whirl say ‘race you’ to Jetfire, to which the shuttleformer just laughed. Rustshift wouldn’t be surprised if Jetfire left the helo sucking his exhaust.

He jumped slightly when he felt something slump against him. ‘Looking’ there, he saw it was Wheeljack, now out cold, with Hammercircult standing over him with needle in hand. “Didn’t like doing that,” the medic sighed. “But my tank tells me he wouldn’t get any rechange otherwise.”

:He’s been up for a long time, hasn’t he?: Rustshift asked.

“Over two days,” was the response.

:Can’t blame him…considering,: Rustshift sighed. :So, where are we heading?:

“Ratchet’s clinic: he gave us permission to use it in his absence,” Kup replied.

:Wait…he’s….: He remembered the datadisk and the vague hints Ratchet’s dropped. :He’s…no longer on Cybertron…is he?:

“They had little choice…,” Kup stated with a long sigh, before patting him on the chassis. “Try to get some rest, Rustshift. The last bit for you should be easier, but you never know.”

Yeah, for all they knew, Sentinel could have had his ‘goons’ calm the place already. They won’t know until they get there, so no point in worrying about it right now. So after sending a message to Berylstar to tell him he was on the way back, he tried to relax. Thinking of Flashwing fragging him got him to that point quickly enough.

And thankfully, they had no ‘unwelcome’ party at Ratchet’s clinic. Plus, getting Ebonscream into an examination room was a lot easier than taking him out of that laboratory. Once the pod was secured there, Rustshift was ‘released from duty’. Kup went with him back home, to deliver the bad news about Team Prime and a very strong recommendation for him and his family….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, bunch of new mentions/peeps to go over!
> 
> Canon characters:  
> Whirl = IDW based, just as nuts, but my explanation for it is different. He's a former Siren...(first appearance in Astral Aligned (AA), 'Siege')...but he's been 'not Siren' for so long that he wasn't bothered when the 'Siren Purge' happened.  
> Bulkhead = TFP (first appearance in AA, 'Prisoner')  
> Jetfire = G1 appearance, AA Jetfire personality (chronological first appearance in AA, 'Taste of Innocence' (he's the sparkling that sits on Screamer's head)).  
> Kup = G1 appearance (first AA appearance, I think 'Prisoner'?)
> 
> OCs:  
> Eclipse = First appearance, 'Siege'. Fun fact, I originally wrote her as male, then got swapped at some point...oops.  
> Ricochet = First appearance, 'Siege'.  
> ^ These two are bondmates, though at the time of introduction they were in 'heavy dating phase', much to Ebonscream's annoyance.


	3. Changing Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flatwheel finds himself in a potentially dicey situation....

Well, certainly never thought he’d be on _this_ side of the table.

Flatwheel kept himself from sighing as he idly tapped a finger on the table. He knew this game. Make you wait, let the isolation and uncertainty cause unease. Stage one of interrogation. He knew he wouldn’t break from this and surely, whomever was watching him from the other side of the fake wall knew that too. They knew he was Spec Ops. Well, _former_ Spec Ops.

_Blasted Wrecker…and to the Pit with you, Flashwing._ A brief sneer formed on his lips before he checked himself. He knew they both had a hand in his current predicament. Wheeljack would have told every ally he knew about his true allegiances and Flashwing’s owners had their own connections to Team Prime.

Thus to Prowl and Jazz, his _former_ superiors.

Flatwheel hadn’t stuck around after his close call with Wheeljack. No, he knew better than that and now he realized he should have kept on the move, considering his current situation. He wondered if Solarcut decided to betray him? No, she had no reason to betray one of her own…even if they did butt heads a bit.

Still, he hadn’t heard from her in a while. Not since he had given her that tip on where to likely find what the Wrecker’s were looking for in those old Quintesson labs. Flatwheel hadn’t told her what he suspected, but she was smart enough to know it when she saw it. After all, she had been alive at the time Ebonscream was in control of the Wreckers.

He heard the door open: at last they were going to move to the next step. Stepping into view was a mech he recognized but couldn’t recall his name at present. Wasn’t a large mech, but had a look about him that told him he wasn’t afraid to break a few rules to get what he wanted. Hmm, this meant he will definitely have to be careful if he wanted to get out of this intact.

Flatwheel and the mech stared at each other for a long moment, each getting their measure, before the interrogator tossed a picture datapad onto the table in front of him. It was a picture of Solarcut.

“Do you know this femme?” the Interrogator asked.

“I do,” Flatwheel admitted. “An old colleague of mine.” This wasn’t good: if he was asking about Solarcut, then that likely means….

His suspicions were proven when the Interrogator wordlessly tossed a second picture in front of him. It was also of Solarcut, but now had an additional hole in her chest, her chassis grey with death. His optics widened in genuine surprise, then softened in sorrow. She had been the only other Siren he had found: was he the only one left? “What happened?” he asked, looking up at the mech.

The Interrogator smirked and folded his arms. “You tell me,” he replied. “We found your contact information in her datacore.”

Of course. That explains why they came for him. They must think he was responsible for her death. “I haven’t seen or heard from her since we met several days ago.”

“And where was this meeting?” the Interrogator prompted.

“At her place,” Flatwheel replied with a shrug. “Did some catching up.” He recalled her trying to ‘pull rank’ on him. Bah. Can’t pull rank if the tribe didn’t _exist_ anymore! “Talked about current going’s on and mutual grievances.”

“What sort of grievances?”

Heh, no doubt he was assuming he had grievances on Sentinel. A reasonable assumption, considering his former occupation and the current rumors going about Team Prime. “Our mutual distain for the Wreckers,” Flatwheel replied flatly.

He caught a surprised blink before the Interrogator composed himself. “They are not liked by certain circles, on that I agree,” he commented evenly. “Spec Ops like you, I’ve heard, disliked them for their…lack of finesse.”

“Humph, that’s putting it _mildly_ ,” Flatwheel grumbled. “And I must correct you on one thing.”

“And what is that?”

Flatwheel leaned forward. “I am no longer Spec Ops…and the Wrecker’s are to blame for that.” He did not suppress the venom in his tone.

“What did they do?”

“Spread a particularly damning rumor about me to my superiors,” he replied. “One that was not true in the slightest…but I had no means to prove my innocence. So I was forced to leave the Spec Ops ranks, even go into a hiding.”

“I would have thought an agent like you would have been _better_ at hiding,” the Interrogator remarked with a smirk. “It didn’t take much to track you down…”

“My role was interrogation, not field work.” His smirk replaced the one that disappeared off the mech’s face. _Yes, I know the game we are playing._

The Interrogator cleared his vocalizer. “Was the intention of the meeting with Solarcut also to plot revenge?”

“Initially, no,” Flatwheel admitted. “When the topic of their current suspected activities came up, however…I recognized an opportunity.”

The Interrogator was narrowing his optics, a hint of disapproval within them. Naturally, they wouldn’t like it when bots from two different groups discussed cases between themselves. “It was you that suggested checking the labs at Old Vos?”

“Indeed I was, as it was the most logical area for the target of the Wrecker’s interest,” Flatwheel replied.

“And I suppose you know what this target is?”

Flatwheel leaned forward on one elbow with a serious expression on his face. “I do…something that could pose a significant threat to the current status quo….”

The mech was definitely interested: he was leaning forward with his hands on the table. “Elaborate.”

“Ebonscream.”

The Interrogator looked confused. “I am unfamiliar with that name…who was he?”

“One of the founding members of the Wreckers,” Flatwheel explained. “He was captured by the Quintessons during the Age of Wrath.”

“And you think he is still alive?” the mech remarked with a dismissive snort as he straightened up.

“Chances are, no…,” Flatwheel admitted. “However, this is Quintesson tech we would be dealing with…and they have kept ‘specimens’ alive for extended periods of time before. If there is even the _slimmest_ chance he is still alive….”

“You really think a mech that would be so out of loop with current events would be a threat?”

“I will preface by saying I never met the mech…for I was created after his capture,” Flatwheel began. “So everything I know about him is second…perhaps third hand. Ebonscream…was a mech of high morals. Prone to show mercy and give bots a chance at redemption. Rarely took a life and formed the Wreckers to defend the weak and helpless. Had a keen, tactical mind that lead the Wrecker’s to victory with minimal casualties time and time again.”

He could see the cogs moving in the Interrogator’s head. “He would stand against Sentinel Prime,” he finally stated.

“He would indeed,” Flatwheel confirmed. “I think it’s in our best interest to ensure he’s not alive, no?”

The Interrogator was rubbing his chin. “I suspect…that our Lord Sentinel would like to know of this potential threat…from you personally.”

“It would be an honor,” Flatwheel stated as he stood up to bow. 

Hidden by his bow was a devious smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope...didn't forget about this aft. >:D


	4. Dim Tiddings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...but a glimmer of hope...

Wheeljack paced in the hallway, unable stand still. In the examination room close by, Gearbolt and Hammercircuit were giving Ebonscream a full exam, to determine how much work will need to be done. Well, Wheeljack didn’t need a medic to tell him he would need a _lot_ of work to get him back on his feet.

He paused a moment to lean against the wall and vent a sigh, one hand to his face. The veteran Wrecker remembered the days…weeks… _months_ …after Ebonscream disappeared. Feeling his love reaching out to him through their bond, crying for help. Panic, fear, anger, despair, desperation…he felt it all, but no matter how hard he and the other’s searched, they could not find him. All Wheeljack could do was send back reassurance, comfort and love….

Every time he felt Ebonscream ‘call’ to him through their bond, he knew they still had time. They hadn’t wasted a moment of it! They interrogated Sirens, but they denied having him. They asked the Quintessons for help, but they just shrugged their slagging tentacles, stating it was their problem. Now he knew why they refused. Fragging bastards.

But he still had hope…they all did…until Ebonscream went silent. Wheeljack had hoped whatever had happened just knocked him out. But the silence stretched from hours, to days, to weeks….

He must have cried for days when it was decided to stop the search. Wheeljack didn’t want to accept that he was gone. Didn’t even go to the memorial…couldn’t. It would have just confirmed it what everyone else was thinking.

But Primus had smiled upon them…gave them a miracle. An Enforcer with a good spark tipped them off and now they were here, hoping they can keep that miracle alive.

_Please Primus…I don’t think my spark would be able to take losing him now…._

He heard the door to the exam room open. Looking up he saw Gearbolt approaching him, but his expression was not a hopeful one.

“Wh-well?” Wheeljack asked anxiously.

“Not good….,” Gearbolt replied grimly.

Wheeljack felt his spark sink. “Wha-what do ya mean by that?” he demanded. “Ya can’t do _anything_ for him?”

“Two things. First, there is very little of his frame that _isn’t_ degraded beyond repair,” the medic replied. “Namely, his spark chamber, datacore and processor.”

Well, that’s good he supposed….

“Second…even if degradation wasn’t the issue, his frame is so far behind on standard upgrades it’s basically impossible to repair him, as is.”

Wheeljack’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him as that sunk in. “Does that mean…we can’t save him? Th-that are only option is to just…let him go?” Was all the stress and worry getting him here, risking Rustshift’s freedom, a waste?

“Not yet, there is _one_ thing we can try,” Gearbolt told him. “Transferring his spark into a blank protoform.”

“Would his spark even be able to handle that?”

“Don’t know,” Gearbolt admitted. “But if Ratchet is right about him being an outliner, and one with an ability to survive the impossible like he has, there’s a good chance he will. The only problem is that Ratchet does not have any in the clinic.”

“Were can we get one then?”

“It will have to be specially ordered…Hammer is checking on that now. The worry is that ordering such a thing may draw unwanted attention, since by now Sentinel and his goons will have noticed Team Prime’s absence.”

“Perhaps if we just stole one….”

“Oh sure… _that_ would _surely_ not draw any attention….” The medic was rolling his optics. “Look, I know you are desperate to have him back up to full function, but I don’t think he would like the idea of being in a stolen frame….”

“I think he would understand, considerin’ the circumstances….,” Wheeljack countered. “Now…where are those things kept? I’ll get a team together….”

“No need,” Hammercircuit announced, looking a bit amused. “There’s one already on the way.”

“What ya were able to order it express?” Wheeljack asked.

“Nah…good o’Ratchet must have decided we may need one and ordered it before he left,” Hammercircuit replied. “Should be here tomorrow.”

“So it’s a matter of prepping the nanite solution and him for the procedure,” Gearbolt stated with relief. “No sense waiting.”

“Let’s just hope no one gets curious as to why there’s a protoform being delivered to an abandoned clinic…,” Hammercircuit muttered.

“We got the Doc’s permission to use this place,” Gearbolt reminded him. 

“Do ya really think Sentinel’s thugs would give a frag?” Wheeljack growled. “They are likely _itchin’_ to find a reason to put us in cuffs and they would consider this ‘breakin’ and enterin’’ no matter what Ratchet told us.”

“He has a point, love,” Hammercircuit sighed.

“Then all we can do right now is keep activity here low and hope no Enforcer’s come knocking before we are done here….,” Gearbolt sighed. “Outliner or not…I doubt Ebony can survive another move….”

Wheeljack, as much as he hated it, had to agree with him there….


	5. Unwanted Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than one complication pops up.

Primus must be really testing their resolve on restoring Ebonscream. Hammercircuit initially felt relief when the shipment came in and confirmed that there was an actual protoform in the crate. That relief deflated a bit when he saw the protoform’s condition.

It was serviceable, sure, but the protoform’s upper right leg and lower left arm were discolored and showed signs of degradation. Evidence of poor storing and maintenance. Whether or not this one was sent here on purpose to spite Ratchet, or it was the best they had at the time, there was no way of knowing. Hammercircuit knew Ratchet had the experience in repairing blank protoforms. 

He didn’t, however. Spark transfers, yes, but not maintaining blank protoforms. His mate, Gearbolt, didn’t know either.

Hammercircuit quickly went through the copy of the datadisk he had in his datacore. Good, Ratchet did share his techniques on such procedures. Ugh…what was required would take a lot of time. Time they likely did not have. It may be more efficient to do the spark transfer now and see about repairing any deformations after. Gearbolt agreed with him, after a discussion on their options.

Then they had to break the news to Wheeljack….

“What!?” the Wrecker had screeched in response. “They screwed up the order?”

“Essentially,” Gearbolt replied. “We do not know, however, if this was by intent or due to little choice.”

“Considerin’ how deep Sentinel’s tendrils are in everythin’ I wouldn’t be surprised on the ‘intentional’ part,” Wheeljack grumbled with a huff, they both nodding in agreement. “Can…can it be ‘fixed’?”

“Technically, yes…but-“ Hammercircuit started to explain, when Eclipse suddenly ran up to them.

“Someone just pulled up front…,” the Wrecker scout whispered. “Looks like an inspector type.”

“Scrap…must have been sent to inspect the building for ‘repurposing’ since Ratchet’s gone….” Hammercircuit hissed. They both grabbed Wheeljack by the arms when it looked like the Wrecker was about to go murder the unsuspecting bot. “Oh no you don’t!”

“Assaulting or murdering a government official is the last thing we need!” Gearbolt added with a hiss.

“And one of those slaggers won’t decide to ‘confiscate’ Ebony or worse?” Wheeljack growled.

“Shut up and hide ya thick-headed idiot,” Eclipse sneered as she helped them pull Wheeljack into the room where they were prepping Ebonscream for the spark transfer.

“This is no good…,” Gearbolt muttered. “We can hide, but Ebony….”

“Eclipse, keep an optic on where the official is,” Hammercircuit requested. Fortunately, it was just her, Gearbolt, Wheeljack, himself and, of course, Ebonscream in the building at present.

“Can’t ya just bomb the slagger with a sedative bomb like in the old days?” Wheeljack growled, his optics glued to the door.

“Or sure, we can whip one up such a short time frame…,” Gearbolt sighed with a roll of his optics. “Not to mention any inspector worth their badge will realize what happened when they came to.”

“So long as we are long gone by the time they come too….”

“And have every Enforcer on Cybertron after our afts as a result.” Wheeljack just growled in frustration in response.

//Bad luck, ‘Circuit,\\\ Eclipse announced on the comm. //She’s headin’ in your direction.\\\

Scrap. Whether they made too much noise, or the inspector choose this direction at random didn’t matter. They had to think of something quickly. Perhaps….

“Guys…let us continue prepping for the spark transfer,” he announced quietly. “If we act ‘normal’ we may not get in as much trouble.” Gearbolt was nodding in agreement, but Wheeljack looked like he was about to explode. “Jackie…stand by the door, but do nothin’ unless we need ‘option B’ got it?”

“Fine…,” the Wrecker growled as he got into position. “But if they make one wrong move toward Ebony….”

Fair enough. Hammercircuit started preparing the protoform, while Gearbolt continued setting things up on Ebonscream’s side. He had just carefully placed the protoform into a nanite infusion tank when their ‘guest’ arrived. The inspector looked a bit shocked at what she was seeing before she got her wits about her and was starting to say something, but Gearbolt cut her off.

“I am sorry, Ma’am,” Gearbolt announced. “But we are preparing for a very delicate procedure. Unless you are immediate family, I request that you wait in the lobby.”

“This building was just listed as abandoned,” the Inspector countered. “No one should be in here.”

“We have permission from the owner,” Hammercircuit informed her. 

“Previous owner,” she contested, folding her arms. “This building is now owned by the government. Unless you wish to be arrested for trespassing, you need to vacate the building immediately.”

“Unfortunately, as you can see, our patient is in no condition to be moved,” Gearbolt told her, gesturing toward Ebonscream. “Unless you want his death on your hands, we must finish this procedure if we are to save his life.”

She visibly flinched and seemed to study Ebonscream’s prone frame for a long moment. Did her optics just widen? Hammercircuit could see Wheeljack’s plates were bristling, his hands starting to move toward his sabers….

Please…let us not need to use ‘option B’.

The Inspector then breathed a long sigh. “Two hours,” she announced.

It took them a moment to realize what she meant. “To do this and leave?” Gearbolt asked, the Inspector nodding om response. “That’s barely enough time to finish prepping for this spark transfer AND complete the nanite transfusion…and that’s if there are no complications!”

“It’s all I can give,” the Inspector replied, regret in her tone. “That’s when my superior is scheduled to arrive himself...and he won’t be as understanding.” She then turned and started back out, stopping in a bit of shock when she finally spotted Wheeljack, glaring daggers at her. They stared at each other for a moment, before the Inspector finally left the room.

They felt both relief and a spike of anxiety. Two hours….to do this and bug out. Any plans on fixing the protoform before hand was solidly out the window now.

There was no time to waste as even Wheeljack started helping where he could….


	6. False Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With time short, they are ready to transfer Ebonscream to a new body....

Everything was ready.

Wheeljack was told to stand back as the two medics did final checks. The whole set up looked like some kind of mad experiment. A large tube was attached to Ebonscream’s open spark chamber, with the other end attached to the protoform’s empty one. Said protoform had numerous other smaller tubes attached to strategic points on the frame as it was hanging from a support rig. Said support rig was to allow for the wings to grow during the nanite transfusion which was essential for growing the initial set of armor. This was all on top of the standard monitoring life support cables.

Anxiety…fear…doubt…those were all swirling around in his processor as Hammercircuit gave Gearbolt a ‘proceed’ nod and Gearbolt flipped the switch. Wheeljack felt his spark briefly stop when Ebonscream’s body jerked in response, then went dead limp. He caught a similar jerk in the protoform and he anxiously looked to Hammercircuit, whom was watching a monitor closely.

“Spark is accepting the protoform…,” the medic announced with relief.

Wheeljack felt immense relief at that news. Now they just-

His optics widened when he felt that long silent bond awaken. Wheeljack doubled over with a gasp as his spark was flooded with ‘pain/loss/desperation/despair/fear’. There was only one reason why he would be feeling this now….

“Wheeljack, what is-“ Gearbolt started to ask.

“He’s awake!” Wheeljack cried, managing to lift his head up in time to see the protoform start to move.

“That shouldn’t be possible!” Hammercircuit declared. “The protoform should have been in-“

:GIVE HIM BACK!: Ebonscream screeched, snapping out one arm with such force that some of the transfusion tubing snapped off.

_‘Give him back’…what did…._ Wheeljack felt a sick feeling in his tank but shoved it aside for the moment. Ebonscream was starting to thrash, trying to break free, more precious tubing coming off. If they didn’t stop him now, they won’t have time to both replace them _and_ complete the transfusion process.

“Ebony!” he cried, rushing toward him so he could see him, while also pushing ‘reassurance’ through the bond.

Ebonscream had stopped thrashing the moment he heard his name, simple optics locking on to him. Despite not having any facial features right now, Wheeljack could see the relief, but also confusion in that face, emotions echoed through their bond. His love reached toward him and touched his face, as if it to verify he was really there. Then he drew the hand back and looked at it, that feeling of confusion increasing.

“It’s alright…,” Wheeljack told him, tears forming in his optics. “You are safe….” He reached up and stroked the protoform’s ‘cheek’. “But we need ya to go back to sleep for a bit longer…OK?” A head tilt. “We’ll explain when you wake up again…I promise….”

Ebonscream stared at him for what felt like forever before nodding. Hammercircuit quickly initialized medical stasis and Ebonscream’s new body went limp once more. Wheeljack stepped away to give the medics room to access the damage to the equipment and give himself time to process what just happened.

“’Give him back’….” Gearbolt was saying grimly as he replaced a tube. “Oh Primus I hope that didn’t mean….”

“Mean what?” Wheeljack asked, his voice small. He already had a good idea, considering what they were attempting before Ebonscream had disappeared. 

Gearbolt was still and quiet for a moment, Hammercircuit looking away as well. “It’s best we focus on this first…in case of many more complications,” the latter finally stated, Gearbolt nodding in agreement as they detached the spark transfer equipment.

Fair enough, though to Wheeljack it felt like just more confirmation. Confirmation that they had finally succeeded, only for the Quintessons to snatch that away from them too. He clenched his fist close to his chest, feeling a mix of rage and intense sorrow.

Wheeljack forced himself to take a deep breath and pushed that aside. They had to focus on finishing this and bugging out. “Sh-should I contact Jetfire?” Probably should have done that earlier, actually….

“We are only going to have just enough time to finish this,” Gearbolt replied. “If that Inspector was telling the truth of another arriving soon, Jetfire would be too ‘visible’.”

“A stealth escape then….” Wheeljack activated his comm. “Eclipse, check our options for a quick, quiet escape.”

//Got it,\\\ the scout replied.

Now more waiting and watching. The medics finished their repairs to the setup after only a couple more minutes and started the transfusion process. From what he understood of it, it provided the protoform with the nanites needed to make the physical adjustments needed to fit their frame type. It was a bit creepy watching the protoform morph like that. The process of building the initial set of armor, however, Wheeljack found even creepier, in his opinion.

It looked like…acid eating away at metal, only in reverse and more…organized? The torso was completed first, initially a stark, gunmetal grey before the color nanites activated, covering it with the Ebonscream’s normal coloration. This was followed by the head, transforming it into the handsome face he knew and loved. Beneath that, he knew the nanites were making the needed adjustments to his optics and vocalizer, giving him the cherry red optics and warm voice that had captured his spark. Wait, since when did the silver of his head crest continue down the edges of that helm panel?

As the process continued, Wheeljack noticed more oddities.

The silver accents on his shoulders were more prominent, as were the ones on his thighs, at least on his left one: one the right one, the nanites were clearly struggling due to the deformation on the protoform. The same was happening on the lower left arm. Both Hammercircuit and Gearbolt frowns were deepening as they checked the time.

They only had thirty minutes left. To save time, they started removing infusion tubes that were no longer needed.

Most of the body was complete, save for the problem areas and the wings. Wings were predictably going slow due to their complex circuitry. From what Wheeljack could see so far, the wing shape was also slightly different than before: the once smooth curves were now straighter and more angular. 

Fifteen.

Wait…he didn’t have silver on his wings before. The now complete minors sported silver tips this time and he could see the beginnings of a larger, oval shaped marking on each of the primaries. Wheeljack looked at the time: seven minutes.

Primus…this was going to be close and there was a chance the two problem areas wouldn’t complete in time. If the wings would finish at least, he was certain Gearbolt and Hammercircuit could figure out _something_ for those spots.

//Found an exit point,\\\ Eclipse reported in. /It’s clear.\\\

“Get your aft over here then so you can lead us to it…we’re nearly done.”

//On my way.\\\

The wings were nearly done…just a bit more…there! Did they have time to finish the-

“Two minutes…,” the Inspector's voice penetrated the room. They looked back to see her in the doorway. “He just gave me his ETA….” Without another word she left, Eclipse running in just after.

“Did I just hear that right?” the scout asked.

“Unfortunately…,” Gearbolt growled as he ripped the remaining tubes off, halting the process. “I’d rather give his new body a once over here but….”

“No time…,” Hammercircuit finished for him as they unhooked Ebonscream from the support rig. Gearbolt carrying Ebonscream new body, while Hammercircuit took his old one: no sense in leaving that behind. Wheeljack would have preferred to be the one to carry him but understood the need to be ‘available’ incase ‘Option B’ was still needed. With that in mind, he drew a saber and kept it ready as they quickly followed Eclipse.

Eclipse lead them down to one of the larger storage rooms. There, the scout revealed a hidden passage: it looked fairly new. Ratchet must have had it built as an easy way to leave with all his Constructicon assistants without notice when the time came. Now it will serve the same function for them.

The tunnel took them a fair distance away from the clinic. When they opened the door at the end, they found themselves in the industrial sector. They agreed now was a good time to call for Jetfire and it didn’t take long for the shuttle former to arrive. It was only once they were all onboard and on their way to their current base that they all got a chance to get a real good look at Ebonscream’s new body.

He definitely lost some of his ‘softer’ curves in his frame, which could be blamed on the lower quality protoform in Wheeljack’s opinion. More puzzling, and less explainable, was the expansion of Ebonscream’s accent color. It made him more _striking_ for sure, but it would make it harder for him to hide in the shadows like he used to.

“This isn’t good….,” Gearbolt was muttering, drawing Wheeljack’s attention. “The nanites were starting to form the armor within any gap of the protoform here….” The medic indicated the location and Wheeljack had to look close to see what he meant.

On the left forearm, he could see that, instead of a smooth panel, the armor was lumpy and riddled with gaps. In the larger gaps, he could see thin strips of armor descending into the protoform itself. Some of it was even going into the elbow joint.

“It’s the same here…,” Hammercircuit, whom was inspecting the right thigh, reported. “I hate to say it…but it was probably a good thing we were forced to leave so quickly.”

“I agree…,” Gearbolt sighed. “He’s going to be partly crippled as is.”

Crippled. Wheeljack didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Can it be corrected?”

“Should be possible, but we will have a better idea once we get him back to our medbay.”

“It will be, initially, more important these deformities do not cause him any pain,” Hammercircuit added. “Physical pain…that is….”

_‘Give him back!’_

Wheeljack flinched, remembering Ebonscream’s cry when he prematurely awakened. That sickening feeling returned, a suspicion he didn’t want confirmation on…but couldn’t shake.

That they had finally created a sparkling…only for the Quintessons to take it away….


	7. Last and First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A desperate attempt....

_He was beautiful._

_Ebonscream could only gaze in wonder at the beauty he had just toiled to produce. Black and grey, like himself, but had Wheeljack’s red accents. Also seemed to have inherited his mate’s audio fins, but, unfortunately, the sparkling’s optics were still closed. His vocalizer, however, was definitely functional! The sparklings cries reverberated off the walls._

_Carefully, he lifted the sparkling into his arms, the little one immediately quieting upon recognizing his carrier. The moment the little one was in his arms, the stark white walls and barred forcefield around him momentarily forgotten. Forgotten in the euphoria of having produced such a miracle. He couldn’t quite tell if the tiny sparkling was a seeker or a grounder: seemed to have the traits of both? Didn’t matter…he was perfect!_

_For the first time since his capture, he felt joy and happiness. Those feelings were brief, however, as he was reminded of his situation. ‘They’ will come for him and take him away, Ebonscream was certain of that. He recalled how excited they sounded when they discovered he was carrying._

_Primus, he should have sent someone else to meet with their informant. Should have stayed in the camp after the medics had given him the news. Wheeljack didn’t know…and may never know unless he can-_

_Voices down the hall._

_Ebonscream rose to his feet, unsteadily, clenching the sparkling close to his chest. He flared his wings as the tentacled bastards approached, wide smiles on their faces. What they wanted, was all too clear._

_“No,” he growled, rattling his wings. The sparkling squirmed, sensing his carrier’s distress. He stroked him reassuringly while not taking his optics off the Quintessons before him._

_They were laughing at him. No doubt confident he was too weak to offer much resistance. One of others spoke in a tone of caution as the guards moved forward: likely warning the guard not to harm the sparkling. Well, they were about to learn how dangerous a carrier in full protection mode could be. Especially one that was a combat veteran!_

_While one of the guards kept a suppression stick leveled at him, another deactivated forcefield and retracted the bars. He didn’t attack right away, no, they would have expected that. Instead, Ebonscream waited, his growls turning into hisses as the guard with the suppression stick moved forward._

_That’s when he made his move._

_While keeping the sparkling cradled in his right arm, he seized the stick with his left hand. Then he yanked it out of the guard’s tentacles, flipped it around and shocked it with it. The guard fell backwards into the cell door threshold, preventing the other guard from closing it. At least, not without killing their kin._

_Ebonscream jumped over the fallen guard, then jabbed the second guard with the stick before kicking over the Quintesson scientist. Their cries of pain and surprise upset the sparkling, whom started crying._

_“Shh, shh…it’s OK, little one,” he cooed him as he bolted down the hall. “I’m gettin’ ya out of here….”_

_That seemed to be enough to calm the newspark, but only briefly as alarms started blaring shortly after, causing him to start to cry anew. Afraid, the little one was afraid, he knew this. He was also afraid, afraid this escape attempt would fail. No, he wouldn’t, couldn’t fail. He will not allow this innocent life to be ruined by these invaders!_

_So he ran on, having to figure out and avoid traps on the fly. Utilizing the stolen stick and anything and everything else he had on any living opposition. Using what he recalled of the labs layout to guide him to the exit. To the outside. Safety._

_And Wheeljack._

_He was nearly there; he was sure of it. At last, the hallway expanded into a large room, a pair of double doors on the other side. The exit! Hope swelled in his spark as he surged for it._

_Something moved on either side of the room. His spark sank when he recognized them as some kind of turret, their lethal barrels both aimed his way. What a fool he was to not stop and check the room first!_

_He skidded to stop and started to back away, but it was too late. The turrets started firing. Time seemed to slow as he could see the turrets were shooting not energy based weapons, but ballestics in the form of large spikes. He brought up his left arm to try to block, maybe deflect the closest spike._

_It sheered that arm off at the elbow, the suppression stick flying off with it as damage warnings lit up in his HUD._

_No…._

_Protect the sparkling! He twisted and turned, managing, somehow to dodge the next spike, but another hit his leg._

_Not like this…._

_His mobility compromised, more spikes hit their mark. Some went through his wings, a couple more into his legs._

_Not when I was so close…._

_He finally fell to the floor when two hit his torso, one in his abdomen and the other in his right shoulder, barely missing the sparkling._

_Jackie…._

_Tears welled up and rolled down his face, his HUD full of damage warnings and he could see the blue glow of his own energon start to pool around him. His audios full of the sound of the lab’s alarms and the sparkling’s wails of distress. He could not feel his legs anymore._

_I’m sorry…._

_The turrets had stopped firing and the alarms quieted. The only sound now was the sparkling’s whimpering and his own pained intakes. He tried to keep the little one close to his chest, but his strength was rapidly fading. Eventually, the sparkling slid out of his grasp and onto the energon soaked floor. He was failing about, crying with confusion, his optics now open._

_Wheeljack’s optic color, but his style. The little one was staring at him, those bright optics reminding him of twin moons hanging above an almost fully night sky with horizon lit red with the last light of the sun. “Nightfire…,” he declared. “I wish…I tried…ta prevent this…forgive me…”_

_Nightfire blinked, unable to understand. He likely won’t even remember his words. Probably won’t even remember him, provided he survived to adulthood._

_He just caught movement out of the corner of his optics before a tentacle wrapped around Nightfire and lifted him up and away from him. The sparkling’s cries started anew as Ebonscream weakly reached for him._

_“No…,” he begged as the Quintesson took his sparkling away. “Give him back…GIVE HIM BACK!”_

He must have blacked out then, for now he felt like he was…hanging? His body felt…weird, but there was no pain. What did those squids do to him?

Ebonscream opened his optics, seeing he was in some kind of operation theater. He could feel many strange things on him, things that didn’t belong. What are they doing to him!?

Nightfire. Where was Nightfire? 

A surged of protective rage shot through him. He could hear shouts of confusion: he was not alone in here. They were likely preparing to do some kind of experiment on him…or were just finishing one? What they were doing to him didn’t matter….

:GIVE HIM BACK: he cried, reaching out. Wait, why was he speaking in Basic? Work it out later, he had to break free and find Nightfire!

Then a familiar voice called his name and very welcome face appeared in front of him, his spark feeling reassurance and love. He felt his spark swell with relief upon seeing Wheeljack again, but why did he seem so much…older? Ebonscream reached out and touched his beloved’s face, then recoiled when he saw his arm was nothing but bare protoform with a few clear tubes attached to it. What….

“It’s alright…,” Wheeljack was telling him, visible tears in his bondmate’s optics. “You are safe….” He reached up and touched his face, but he couldn’t feel it? At least, not in the same way? “But we need ya to go back to sleep for a bit longer…OK?” He tilted his head in confusion. “We’ll explain when you wake up again…I promise….”

Ebonscream stared at him, wondering if this was some weird, cruel dream. He prayed to Primus it wasn’t as he nodded and shortly after blackness consumed him once more.


	8. Awakened Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back

They were finally home, at least, what they considered home right now. Wreckers had always ensured they could relocate at a moment’s notice. A practice that was as important now as it was in the past, in Gearbolt’s opinion. To keep their foes…and _certain_ ‘allies’ from finding them.

There was quite the welcome party when they arrived. Those that had known Ebonscream no doubt wanting to see if they were successful, while the rest were likely curious, hoping to get a glimpse of the legendary Wrecker. They would not be disappointed.

He came out first, holding Ebonscream’s knew body, Wheeljack right beside him. There was mostly stunned silence, with a few murmurs heard here and there. “By the Allspark,” Kup was saying, the elder Wrecker approaching them. “You were able to do it….”

“Barely,” Gearbolt admitted, glancing backwards towards Hammercircuit, whom was carrying the now nearly completely grey corpse of Ebonscream’s old body. There were a few audible gasps in response to seeing that. “There were a few complications,” Gearbolt continued. “And things didn’t go as smoothly as we’d like.”

“Slagging nosy government…,“ Wheeljack was grumbling, the rest of his statement nothing but a string of curse words.

“Still, he is alive, that is what matters,” Kup stated before looking at the crowd. “Alright you slaggers! You got your look, now go back to your duties!”

“I didn’t!” someone pipped up. “Someone’s big backside was-“

“Are you calling me fat!?”

“ _Everyone_ to me has a big backside, idiot!”

“Perhaps if you weren’t such a shortaft…”

“I’m not short! I’m vertically challenged!”

“Then bring a box next time!”

“Maybe I’ll just sit on your fat head instead!”

“Oh shut up and kiss already, you two!”

“Shut up, Whirl!”

“Make me!”

A brawl quickly ensued afterward, which was quickly broken up by other Wreckers. Gearbolt would have facepalmed if he had a free hand to do so: Kup and Wheeljack did so in his stead. Some things never changed, but perhaps that will help ease Ebonscream into this new era he will awaken too.

As they made their way to their medbay, Gearbolt could only imagine the shock their old leader and friend would feel when they broke the news to him. Questions on whether or not he would be able to adapt to this new world kept popping up into his processor. He was more worried about the _mental_ side, to be honest. They will likely need Rung’s help…

For now, though, they need to verify the condition of Ebonscream’s new body. Once set down on the medical berth, they got to work, probing and checking every inch of him. From top to bottom, inside and out.

Wheeljack was present of course, but he was keeping out of the way and quiet. He appeared to be in deep thought, about what, Gearbolt had a few ideas. One of them being about ‘that’. Primus, will he forgive them for keeping that from him?

“Looks like those two areas we noted in route are the only defects we have to correct,” Hammercircuit concluded, Gearbolt nodding in agreement. A stroke of fortune for the physical side of things, though fixing those areas was going to be a long process, especially the affected joints. Best to try to take care of the worst of it now, while the seeker was still in stasis.

They worked in silence for several minutes, bending the armor threads out of places they didn’t belong when they could, cutting off those that they couldn’t. Delicate work and from how fine some of those threads were, he knew they wouldn’t be able to get them all with what they had. Unfortunately, the specialized tools they would need for this was now closed to them.

“I think we’ve done enough for today,” he announced with a sigh.

“Time to wake him up?” Hammercircuit asked, to which he nodded. Ebonscream had been in stasis for too long as is.

“Hey Gear…,” Wheeljack spoke up as they cleaned up. “I….” The short Wrecker fell silent. Gearbolt looked back at him, seeing the doubt and hesitation on his face. He had a feeling on what he was about to ask, and he didn’t blame him for not wanting that kind of confirmation.

“What he said earlier, when he woke up…,” Wheeljack finally spoke up again after a moment, his tone low and strained. “Did that mean….”

Gearbolt looked at his mate: Hammercircuit expression was the same as his own. It was a secret they had hoped they would never have had to reveal to him. It took a moment to collect his thoughts as he initiated the stasis reversal on Ebonscream. “Yes…,” he replied softly. “We confirmed it the very day he disappeared. He was…so happy….” Gearbolt remembered the look of pure joy on the seeker’s face.

“Why…why didn’t ya tell me?” Wheeljack’s voice was already cracking. He didn’t need to look at him to know he was crying.

“He had wanted to tell you himself,” Hammercircuit replied quietly, his gaze low. “We honored those wishes even after he disappeared…but the longer he was missing, we knew the likelihood the newspark was still alive along with him was….” Hammercircuit sighed and shook his head.

“I see….” Wheeljack was quiet a moment. “But it sounds like he carried to term….”

“Yeah…,” Gearbolt acknowledged as he kept watch over Ebonscream’s vitals. “But we had no way of knowing back then….” Knowing what they knew now, it was fragging _typical_ the Quintessons would want the sparkling. How long did that newspark survive afterward…what pain did they endure…he didn’t want to know. 

“There’s a chance he may be driven to look for a…substitute…for the lost sparkling,” Hammercircuit warned, Gearbolt nodding in agreement.

“Why?” Wheeljack asked. “I get if he had just lost it today, but it’s been _eons_ ….”

“To him it happened _yesterday_ , if not _today_ ,” Gearbolt pointed out. “Remember you have no perception of time passing when in stasis.”

“Oh….”

A low moan drew everyone’s attention. Ebonscream was in the final stages of awakening. Wheeljack had immediately joined them at the berth, wanting to be the first thing the seeker saw. Gearbolt let him, it was only right.

Fuzzy cherry optics opened and blinked several times as they looked around, taking stock of his new surroundings. Gearbolt could see Ebonscream’s frame tense briefly, until those optics fell upon Wheeljack.

“Jackie…,” Ebonscream spoke, his voice slightly staticky from first use.

“Ebony…,” Wheeljack replied in kind as the seeker reached up an stroked his face, Wheeljack placing one of his hands over it. “Welcome back….”

“Why do ya look so much-ah!” Ebonscream cried out when he attempted to sit up, his left hand starting to move to his right thigh. Only for him to stop short when he hissed in pain again from the problem joint on his arm, prompting him to grip it with his right hand.

“Easy, there was some complications with your new body we haven’t been able fully fix yet,” Hammercircuit informed him as all three of them steadied him and helped him sit up fully.

“New body…what….” Ebonscream finally spotted his former body, which was laid out upon neighboring berth. His optics went very wide as he stared at it. “What…”

“We found you in a lifesupport pod in a Quintesson lab,” Gearbolt explained, slightly worried Ebonscream may have suffered some memory loss. “You…were in there for a very long time….”

The shock was clear in both Ebonscream’s face and on his body. He was still, save for his hands slowly lowering to grip the edges of the berth, as if to try to confirm that this wasn’t a dream. He started to gasp and sob, his hands now on his face. “So…he’s likely dead then…,” Ebonscream whispered, tears starting to fall. “Oh Jackie…I failed…I failed ta stop them…ta _protect_ him!”

“Who?” It was as stupid question, technically, as the answer was obvious, but it needed to be asked.

“Nightfire….” Was the answer, prompting a recoil of shock from all three of them. Of all the names…they hadn’t expected _that_ one. “He…he was our sparklin’, Jackie…,” Ebonscream elaborated between sobs, Wheeljack now holding him in an embrace. “I-I tried ta escape after he emerged but was shot down…was helpless when they took him away….”

“Ya did the best ya could, I’m sure of it…,” Wheeljack countered, trying to soothe him, but the pain in his voice was obvious.

“He was so perfect…, Jackie…,” Ebonscream whimpered, before going on to describe the sparkling. 

That…sounded slightly familiar? Between the name and the description…could it be?

“Yes, sounded like he was…,” Wheeljack was saying, the pair now quietly sobbing together.

Gearbolt looked at Hammercircuit, whom nodded in agreement to the silent question. It was best to leave these two alone, to catch up and mourn. They silently left the medbay but didn’t go far in case they were needed.

“Seeing them like that…makes me glad we decided to not have any ourselves…,” Hammercircuit commented softly.

Gearbolt simply nodded in agreement. It was hard enough for them to be impartial and non-biased with their patients. The emotional toll they bore every time one of their own came in with life threatening injuries. They both knew they wouldn’t be able to handle it at all if the bot on their table was their own creation….

Ebonscream and Wheeljack, however, had _really_ wanted this sparkling. To lose it in such a fashion…and not knowing it’s fate…that was going to be a hammer over their heads for a long time. Unless….

“Hammer, their may be a chance we can get them closure,” he announced.

“You think the same as I? That their Nightfire is the same as…..” Gearbolt nodded. “The only bots we know that may able confirm this that we trust are on Earth now…and you know _he_ is looking for us.”

Gearbolt snorted and folded his arms. “I don’t think there’s a Wrecker in this camp that gives a scraplets aft about what that pillar shouldered, rod up the aft ‘Commander’ of ours thinks, _especially_ not Jackie.” Primus, he remembered the pure rage, Wheeljack was in when he denied him permission to go retrieve Ebonscream.

“He will find us eventually,” his mate reminded him. “And you know what we did was technically desertion.”

“All the more important we get Ebony back up to speed as quickly and reasonably as possible so we can have our _true_ leader back.”

“You know he never liked being referred to as our leader, love.” His mate was chuckling faintly.

Gearbolt flashed him a smirk. “And that was why we were willing to follow him into the Pit itself.”

And hopefully, he will still be that kind of leader. However, with now much time as past, and the trauma he had suffered, there was a risk Ebonscream may not be able to lead them as he had before. So much has changed and things were certainly not so simple anymore….


	9. New Role

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New cushy job....

This was a very nice office! The color atheistic didn’t really match his new color scheme, but that couldn’t be helped. Flatwheel strode inside and soaked in the _luxury_ with a grin on his face. 

Thick, plush, dark blue, micro-mesh carpet. Elegant, finely polished furniture. Walls acid etched with an intricate design. Sentinel knew how to take care of those that pleased him! Only issue with the place was those tactless paintings hung on the walls, but those can be easily removed. Same with that rather ugly looking name bar that sat on the desk.

Flatwheel moved around the desk and sat down the chair. Ahhh…much more comfortable than that pile of loosely welded rods he had at his old job! Prowl was always more into _function_ rather than _comfort_. He could easily fall into recharge in this chair…

He didn’t allow himself to fall into that temptation, however, for there was work to be done. Sentinel was gracious to give him this, but with the heavily implied expectation that he would prevent any threat to his power from gaining a foothold. Flatwheel had no ‘plans’ to disappoint his new boss, thus he started by looking through the various drawers and cabinets, seeing what was where.

“What are you doing in here!?” a voice growled from the threshold. Flatwheel glanced over to see silver and green femme glaring at him. Rather pretty looking but didn’t quite make his spark sing. A pity: he really wanted to find a Chosen that _wasn’t_ Flashiwng….

“Oh, are you the assistant?” he asked, before resuming his inspection.

“This is _my_ office!” The femme snapped as she stormed in. “Get out before I call the guards!”

Flatwheel chuckled darkly as he plucked the name bar off the desk. “ _Was_ your office,” he informed her, before tossing the thing into the waste bin. Just as she looked like she was about to get physical, he pulled a datapad from his subspace and tossed it to her. “By Sentinel’s decree.”

He took a moment to sit back down in the chair and put his feet up on the desk. Flatwheel watched as her face seemed to _melt_ from anger to shock and despair upon reading the datapad. “This can’t be right…,” she whined. “I’ve served him faithfully all this time….”

“Being _faithful_ doesn’t amount to much when you don’t get _results_!” Flatwheel told her bluntly, taking his feet of the desk so he could sit up straight. “You, after all, failed to uncover Team Prime’s plans to leave the planet….”

“That caught everyone by surprise!” she protested.

“Which it shouldn’t have!” Flatwheel snapped, slamming a fist on the table. To her credit she didn’t flinch. “I am _certain_ there were signs you and your underlings could have picked up on, if you were more competent in your _job_. However.” He leaned back with a raised finger. “As my new _assistant_ , you have a chance to redeem yourself.”

The femme’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “What would you like me to do first, Inquisitor?” she asked.

“Fetch me the files involving the incident at Lab V-4,” he replied, watching with a smirk as she ran off. While he waited, he explored his new office a bit more. It didn’t take long for her to return, a single datapad in her hands. He took a moment to read through it’s contents and he didn’t like what he saw…or rather… _didn’t_ see. “Why were there no attempts to verify Voltspin’s story?” he asked.

“Officer Voltspin has pristine record, Sir,” the femme replied. “Between that and the reputation Quintesson labs have…we saw no reason to question his story.”

“You _always_ verify alibis,” Flatwheel growled. “I want a team in that lab _ASAP!_ I want every inch of it inspected!”

He watched her run out once more to carry out his commands. Only once she was out of sight and audioshot did he sigh and plant a hand on his face. “Incompetent fools…,” he grumbled softly in his Siren accent. “They better pray Wre’gers have yet to reach tha’ lab….”

Flatwheel, however, had the feeling he was going to playing ‘catch up’ for a while. He’ll need to think of things to keep Sentinel happy in the meantime. Fortunately, the Prime appeared to be rather focused on his more deviant hobbies. That, he can use against him….

…To keep him distracted while he worked on his _true_ goals…


	10. An Unusual Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung learns of Ebonscream.

So many bots that needed his help, but many he was not _allowed_ to provide his services. No one in his profession were.

Rung sighed and rubbed his forehead. Most of those slaves he was certain could be reformed, made properly functioning members of society, he was sure of it. Some may see the errors of their ways through their treatment as slaves, but they would have no way to _act_ upon it. Instead, they were kept with an oppressive boot upon their backs.

He could only imagine the lack of self-worth in some, the seething resentment boiling in others…seeds for another civil war. Seeds Sentinel keeps sowing in arrogance and ignorance. Risking a war Cybertron…frag…their _species_ could ill afford to have again so soon.

All he could do was do what he can, reach those that would listen. Breaking a few ‘rules’ in the process when the risk was worth it. Flashwing, for instance, had _definitely_ been worth it!

He was so proud of the former Siren _and_ his owners. _No, they are more than ‘master and slave’ now._ There had been dramatic improvement with the trio, developing into a much-needed healthy relationship for Flashwing. He personally wouldn’t be surprised if, soon, they took the next step….

His comm started to buzz. Not an uncommon thing these days. Always gave him a spike of anxiety, as he never knew what he was about to hear. Hopefully it wasn’t a suicide case: those were always mentally draining for him, though rewarding when he succeeds in preventing a bot from taking their life.

Rung was a bit surprised when he heard Wheeljack on the other side. That Wrecker had been notorious for avoiding ‘processor pokers’, despite a few attempts at intervention from his fellow Wreckers. Perhaps he finally decided he needed help?

Turned out it was a yes and no. It wasn’t just for himself, but for another. Rung listened carefully as the Wrecker explained his situation, his optics widening a bit in surprise. Well now, that’s a first. Not only was he going to be dealing with the loss of a sparkling, but a form of temporal displacement? To have fallen asleep in one era…only to wake up many eras later? Rung could only imagine how confused and overwhelmed Ebonscream must feel.

Unfortunately, it would be a few days before Rung would have sufficient time to do a face-to-face session with the mech. Wheeljack, thankfully understood that and was thankful for what advice he was able to give him over the comms. Once the call ended, Rung immediately started doing research on this kind of situation, looking for more clues on how best to help Ebonscream join society once more….


	11. Something Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overwhelmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologize for the late update: was dealing with Sentinel levels of BS at the DMV (Primus...why did they not use some common sense logic here? Oh...wait....)...needed to get my license renewed....

This did not look good.

Wheeljack was looking his beloved as he stood in the threshold to their temporary quarters. Ebonscream was sitting up in the berth, his bad arm supported with a sling while the hand of the other was clutching at the berthsheets. He bore a forlorn expression as he stared down at a series of datapads in his lap. From what he could see of the titles, they were history books. Who the in the Pit thought it would be a good idea to toss those at him all at once? Probably Whirl…the crazy idiot….

Good intentions but…he knew his mate was already dealing with the shock of knowing a lot of time had passed him by. Seeing direct _evidence_ of how _much_ time it had been? Yeah….

And that was on top of still grieving over their lost child….

Wheeljack closed his optics in grief at what he never got a chance to experience. A little mechling…a triple-changer from the sound of it. Gone. Never got a chance to know his creators. Never got a chance to know their love. The chance to live in ignorance of how cruel the world can be…no that cruelty came for him right after birth.

If he could, he would go hunt down every single squid down and…and….

He vented a sigh and shook his head. The Quintessons had their comeuppance and doing more would not bring their child back. Nothing will. Wheeljack understood that, but perhaps he had an easier time realizing that since he had never _seen_ his creation…let alone hold him. Ebonscream…would have a harder time of it and he had to focus on getting him through it, like any loving mate should.

As he stepped fully into the room, Flashwing came to mind. Once it had sunk in, he had felt a flash of anger at the former Siren, just like it had when Flashwing confessed to being responsible for Ebonscream’s disappearance. He had brushed that anger aside then because finding his mate was more important. It was, admittedly, a little harder this time, but he succeeded because he remembered that Flashwing only _intended_ for informant to be captured. Ebonscream’s capture was, for all intents and purposes, an accident.

How would Flashwing feel finding out Ebonscream was also carrying at the time? Terrible, most likely. More concerning though was how Ebonscream would feel about him. Would he be able to forgive the one that cost him both his freedom, time and their child? Normally, Ebonscream was very understanding, but…this was different. It may not matter to him that Flashwing regrets the actions of his past. Not with that memory being so _new_ to him.

Wheeljack decided that was a topic to carefully thread later as he sat down beside his mate and gently placed a hand on his back. Ebonscream had turned his head slightly toward him, cherry red optics briefly flicking up to meet his before looking down again. Wheeljack pushed ‘love’ and ‘reassurance’ to him through their bond as Ebonscream faintly sighed.

“So much time has passed…,” Ebonscream began to lament, his free hand now hovering over the datapads. “So much time lost ta me. Do I still belong in a world that has left me so far behind?”

“Of course ya do,” Wheeljack replied softly.

“But so much has _changed_ , Jackie,” Ebonscream whined. “I prided myself in bein’ able ta adapt ta any situation, ta figure a solution ta any problem. But now…it sounds like so much has been added ta the table…so many more elements and variables…how can I possibly adapt ta such a world!?” With the last world he flipped the datapads off this lap, a couple of them landing with a clatter on the floor. “How…how can I be expected ta catch up?” Tears of despair started rolling down his cheeks.

It hurt. It hurt to see him so lost and uncertain. If he had not already spoken to Rung, he’d feel the same right with him, at least in regard to how to help him. While it would be a few days before the therapist could come down to visit, he was able to give him some advice over the comms on how to help him cope on the meantime.

“Ebony…,” Wheeljack spoke softly as he gently turned his face toward him, using his thumb to wipe away some tears off his cheek. “Ya catch up by takin’ it in just a bit at a time. I know it’s a lot…but…I am here for ya…we _all_ are…to help ya get through this.”

“You’re right…but it just feels…awkward… _readin’_ about events I ‘should’ have experienced firsthand…,” Ebonscream sighed as he lifted the one pad that hadn’t been knocked off the berth. “It seems so… _lifeless_?”

“Yeah, history books are dry as fuck, I agree…,” Wheeljack sighed. “Engineering textbooks are far more exciting to me.” At Ebonscream’s confused look he elaborated. “I spent some time in the Golden Age learnin’ how to design and build things…and blow other things up in spectacular ways.” He gave him a smirk and a wink. “Came in handy durin’ the war.”

“I…can imagine….” His gaze drifted toward the datapads scattered on the floor. “Primus…even ya have changed….”

“Everyone changes over time, Ebs, ya know that,” Wheeljack reminded him.

“I know, but…I feel like….” He twirled a hand around as a look of concentration briefly appeared on his face. “I’ve been dumped into a cold room after spending time in a furnace. I feel like there’s nothin’ _familiar_ to anchor myself ta as a startin’ point.”

“So bein’ around a bunch of familiar faces ain’t enough?”

“Said familiar faces have changed…some worse than others…..” Ebonscream then reached out and stroked his cheek. “Your lovely face has been marred by even more scars…”

“Pfft, Ebs, ya know my face was _never_ ‘lovely’,” Wheeljack countered with a roll of his optics.

“Well, the scars certainly don’t help _improve_ it either,” his mate retorted with a smirk.

Ah…there was the Ebonscream he knew and loved! It warmed his spark and he showed it by giving his mate a big smile and kiss on the lips. Primus…he had missed him. “Well…just bein’ around our ‘not so handsome faces anymore’ may not be the _anchor_ ya need, love,” he whispered to him. “But I know somethin’ that might….” He checked his chronometer: yep, it was time.

“Uh….” From the blush on his face, Wheeljack knew his mate’s processor went right into the gutter. “Gear said no interfacin’ just yet….”

“While that _could_ be one way…that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Wheeljack assured him with a chuckle as he slipped off the berth and hefted up into his arms.

“Where are ya takin’ me?” Ebonscream was asking as he carried him out of the room and down the hall. The only place he had been in their temporary base was the medbay and his room, thus those optics were scanning around taking in his new surroundings.

“It’s mealtime and ya know what that means!”

Ebonscream was looking at him now, blinking in surprise. “Ya kept that…even after all this time?”

“Yep! And against Magus’ orders too.”

“Magnus?”

Ah, scrap, they hadn’t told him about _him_ yet. “Ultra Magnus…our current ‘Commander’…,” Wheeljack replied bitterly. 

“Ya don’t like him….”

“That’s puttin’ it _mildly_ …,” Wheeljack grumbled. “I’ll fill ya in about him later….” He did not need to know how that aft treated them. At least, not yet.

He entered what was once a large storage room in the building they currently inhabited. Most of the resident Wreckers were sitting in thick circle in the center of the room. Some were in chairs, other on crates. A few had little choice but to sit on floor. Jetfire’s unmistakable form was leaning against a wall close by, trying not to take up too much space.

“That’s…a big mech….” He heard his mate mutter as he found a place in the circle for them to sit in. Someone quickly came by with a couple of cubes while Bulkhead finished up a story he was telling.

“To this day I’m still picking out shrapnel from my backside!” the Wrecker ended with a few laughs.

“As big as your aft is, I’m not surprised!” someone shouted, prompting a few harder laughs.

“Hey! Just more of me to love!” Bulkhead retorted as he struck a pose.

“Yeah but the only problem is that you rock more than just the berth!” a different bot shouted.

“And that’s a problem, how?”

“It’s a problem for my housing insurance!”

“You don’t have a house!”

“Not anymore!”

“Frag you!”

“Nah, I don’t fuck wrecking balls!”

“Don’t make me sit on you!”

“You’d have to catch me first, slow poke!”

“Take care with your insults, kid,” someone started to remark next to him. “Bulkhead may lack the speed…but he does have the _mass_ ta _roll_ through any obstacle ta get ta ya!” 

Everyone was looking toward them, shock on their faces. It took Wheeljack a moment to realize that it had been _Ebonscream_ that had said that. Now he looked at him, mouth slightly agape in shock that his mate would jump in so quickly!

“Ebony!” Bulkhead was laughing. “Good to see ya back with us and still your snarky self!”

“Yes…a joy…,” Kup was lamenting. “Sounds like I will have to be prepared to chase you out of the camp…like old times….”

“Ya may have ta show some restraint at first, Kup,” Ebonscream retorted, a smirk on his face. “After all…I can’t exactly run just yet…thus it wouldn’t be a very _excitin’_ chase….”

“In that case, Jackie will just have to be on the ball when the time comes….” The senior Wrecker stroked the handle of his hammer, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Hey now!” Wheeljack protested, his optics wide. “Leave me out of that!”

“ _You_ decided to bond with that snarky aft, _you_ get to share in the _consequences_!” A bunch of Wreckers laughed.

“Ah frag…,” Wheeljack sighed, Ebonscream snickering beside him.

Still, Wheeljack was happy that his mate was being himself here. The Ebonscream they all knew and adored continued to shine through as the meal ended, but the story time continued. It was what his mate needed to bring him out of his funk, to get him out of that Pit of despair of hopelessness.

With a bit of luck and work, Wheeljack hoped they can keep him out of it.


	12. Trying to catch up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reading about it isn't the same....

This still wasn’t helping him.

Ebonscream lowered the datapad and rubbed his optics, sighing. The datapad contained a summarized version of everything that went on while he was in stasis. Better than the several _volumes_ Whirl had tossed onto to his lap yesterday, but…after reading it over a few times he still was having trouble piecing together the events.

So much time lost…and just reading about it just…didn’t feel right. He should have _lived_ through all this in person! Not…learn about all second, third (or more) hand. The community story time last night helped a bit, at least on anchoring him to the present, but there was still so much to learn and understand.

He laid down on the berth and stared at the ceiling. Above him he could see the cracks and filth that infested this building. Not exactly the best place for someone recovering from surgery, but the medics were doing the best they could with what they had. The downside of a transient lifestyle. Heh, somethings never change…

Yet all it took was one bad decision for them to lose him and send them into disarray. To lose themselves. All it took for _him_ to lose two precious things: time…and his child. Neither he can get back. It was fragging luck that Wheeljack was still living as well, from what he had learned so far. The Wreckers… _his_ Wreckers…being used as little better than a suicide squad. That was not what they were about!

He took a few intakes to calm down, reminding himself that he hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen what lead up to that. The nuances and finer details. All he had were these dry, written, biased accounts. History written by the victors…while the losers had their ‘truths’ forgotten. All history, all knowledge, was precious, no matter how reprehensible it was.

And from what he understood so far of what caused the Great War, that recent history was threatening to repeat itself. Sentinel…had learned nothing…or simply didn’t care…on why the Decepticons started the war in the first place. And he was the one that broke through the lies of the Quintessons? Fragging _hypocrite_!

“Ebs?” Wheeljack’s voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see his mate standing in the doorway. “Ya alright?”

“As can be…,” he replied softly, tossing the datapad onto the nightstand as he sat up, grateful for the painblockers that enabled him to do so without aid. “I feel so out of the loop…I feel anger at what happened ta society…what happened ta the Wreckers…but I keep havin’ ta remind myself that I am lookin’ at things from how I understood things _prior_ ta all that. I didn’t live through the events that lead up ta it…I don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, the context….”

“None of us have the full picture, love,” Wheeljack told him as he sat beside him. “We can only act on what we know.”

“But ta act on so little is dangerous, Jackie, ya know this. Especially now,” Ebonscream reminded him. “Little knowledge means we end up making assumptions, bad assumptions means mistakes…mistakes can mean-“ His tirade was cut off when Wheeljack kissed him, a familiar and welcome warmth shooting through his frame.

“I know that, Ebs…,” Wheeljack whispered to him as he leaned into him, soaking in his warmth. “We all do…but we didn’t have the _luxury_ of gettin’ all the details durin’ the war and gettin’ those details _now_ is dicey at best without exposin’ our intent.”

“That much I do understand…,” he agreed. “But what ya face now….” He vented a sigh. “And ya expect me ta lead ya through this?”

He felt his mate’s frame jerk a bit. “Well, that was the secondary reason for gettin’ ya out of that pod…,” Wheeljack confessed. “It was a miracle to find ya alive to begin with….”

“So I was told.” When he first woke up, he had assumed the Quintessons were still on the planet. After being told he had been in stasis for literal _eons_ he had questioned how they even found him, let alone _alive_. He was told it was a stroke of fortune to learn where his pod was, though they haven’t filled him in on the details around that just yet for some reason. Aside from that, the medics told him the reason he was even still functioning in that pod was due to him being an…outlier? A bot with a special talent that was innate to their very sparks. They couldn’t explain exactly what his ‘outlier’ ability was, however. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to prevent their sparkling from being stolen….

“I still feel him, Jackie….,” he whimpered, tears of sorrow welling up in his optics. “Like a phantom in my arms…constantly remindin’ me that he is gone….”

“I know…,” Wheeljack was saying soothingly, his broad arms now around him in an embrace, flooding their bond with reassurance and love.

No, he _couldn’t_ have known. Wheeljack hadn’t been there…he hadn’t seen, let alone held him! He had no idea Nightfire had even existed until he had told him. There was no way he could understand….

But, Primus dammit, he was _trying_ …and Ebonscream could not fault him for that.

“They are tryin’ to make arrangements for ya,” Wheeljack spoke after a moment.

“Arrangements for what?” Ebonscream asked, curious.

“A few things,” his mate replied. “First to have Ratchet have a crack at ya problem bits.” Wheeljack tapped his left arm. “He’ll have the special tools we lack.”

Ratchet…that was a name he hadn’t heard in a while. It was good to hear another familiar name and face was still around.

“Second, to get ya access to actual firsthand accounts on things,” Wheeljack continued. “At least the more recent history…from both sides.” His mate then paused for a long moment, looking uncertain. “Last…to hopefully get some confirmation.”

“On what?”

“Rather not say….” Wheeljack looked away briefly. “As it’s only speculation right now.”

“I see….” Ebonscream did _not_ like things being kept from him, but he trusted his mate’s judgment.

“Anyway, the big problem with all of that right now is that we’d have to go to another planet.”

“A colony?” He did understand that during the Golden Age their kind had started to populate other worlds. That era must have been a glorious time to live in…he was sad to have missed it.

Wheeljack was shaking his head. “No, a refuge for rescued slaves. Team Prime runs it.”

“Team Prime…the ones that ended the recent war?” A nod. “I see…but I imagine the slaves they have are low rankin’ grunts. Logically, any high rankin’ Cons would have been executed….”

“Actually no, some of Megatron’s inner circle, so to speak, survived the immediate end, auctioned of alongside the ‘grunts’. Some we do not know the current status of, but two key ones are in the refuge. The Communications and Intelligence Officer, Soundwave, and the Second-in Command, Starscream.”

Both positions sounded very knowledgeable and would, indeed, help fill in the context gaps.

“Though…I’m a bit hesitant to introduce ya to Starscream…,” Wheeljack confessed, looking a mix of both intrigued and concerned.

“Why?”

“Cause he’s an arrogant, sassy, snarky, son-of-a-scraplet!” Wheeljack replied. “And I doubt being ‘owned’ by Optimus has tempered that any.”

Ebonscream pulled back to look his mate in the optics. “Ya think I couldn’t handle someone like that?”

“Oh, I think ya can handle him just _fine_ ,” was the response. “I’m just worried about the planet not bein’ able to handle that much snark and sass bein’ in one place at once….” There was a teasing smirk on his mate’s face.

“It will depend on how he approaches me,” Ebonscream told him with a smirk on his own.

“Ah, fair enough.”

“What about Soundwave? Anything I should worry about him?”

“He’s the walkin’ definition of the ‘strong silent type’,” Wheeljack replied. “At least from what little I’ve seen and heard of him myself. But he’s the best source of intel you can ask for from the Con side of things.”

Ebonscream simply nodded. “Anyone else of note?” He listened as Wheeljack gave a brief description of a few more Decepticons. He had to ask what a ‘trine’ and ‘gestalt’ were: Primus, so many different kinds of bonds now. The former seemed to be the ‘norm’ among seekers these days, leaving Ebonscream to wonder if not being in this ‘trine’ thing would give Starscream an opening to have a go at him.

“What about the Autobot leadership I’ll be speakin’ with?” he asked.

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with them,” Wheeljack answered. “Optimus, I can see ya gettin’ along with very well, as ya are rather similar in personality to him. Well…with the exception of the snark.” Ebonscream half-snorted, half-laughed as he rolled his topics. “Our Chief Intelligence bot is Prowl, mech that’s big on facts and statistics…and table flipping.” He raised a brow at that but didn’t question it. Instead he nodded for him to continue. “I already mentioned Ratchet, their Chief Medical Officer, though just add some crankiness to what you remember…and always be ready to duck.”

“Duck?”

“He’s got about the same tolerance for snark as Kup, but instead of tryin’ to smack ya with a big fraggin’ hammer, he throws wrenches.”

Well…better than Hammercircuit’s scalpels, he supposed. “I’ll keep that in mind….”

“We’ve also arranged for a psychologist to come talk to ya,” Wheeljack revealed.

“A…what?” Ebonscream tilted his head in confusion.

“A mental health therapist,” Wheeljack clarified. “Someone that can help ya work through mental problems caused by trauma.”

His flared his plates at this. “There is nothin’ wrong with my mind,” Ebonscream growled. “I just have a lot of catchin’ up ta do. Besides, what can this…’therapist’ accomplish that talkin’ things though with ya and the others can’t?”

“They have the trainin’ for that kind of thin’,” Wheeljack explained. “We got damned lucky, for instance, we were able to help you through it on our own last time.” His mate tapped him on the wrist, indicating what he meant. 

Ebonscream reflexively pulled his hand away, briefly recalling the time a ‘coping cut’ was made too deep. It had forced him to reveal to the others what he had considered his deepest shame at the time: the time he had been sexually abused when he was still an adolescent…which had resulted in the first time he took a life. Both things he had kept buried deep in his spark, until his brief time as a prisoner of the Siren’s brought it back up again. While everyone in the camp had played a role his proper recovery, it was Wheeljack that helped him the most. It was…the reason their relationship became what it was.

“I don’t want ya to be slippin’ into ‘old habits’…or keepin’ your problems buried again…,’ Wheeljack had continued.

No…he didn’t either. Mistakes of the past should not be repeated. “I’ll…trust your word that he can help me better than the rest of ya,” he stated.

His mate looked relieved, but that was only brief as something else apparently come up in his processor. “There’s…somethin’ else ya should know in general,” Wheeljack announced, looking uncertain.

Ebonscream titled his head in question.

At this his mate heaved a big sigh. “It wasn’t noted in the summery, but the Sirens had sided with the Quintessons during the Wrath War. Naturally after we kicked the squids off the planet, all of Cybertron turned against them. Unfortunately, some of them managed to evade the purge and are still around today.”

Ebonscream frowned, not liking what he was hearing. “Do ya think they are responsible for the-“ He stopped as he checked himself, remembering that, while the Siren’s _did_ practice slavery in the _technical_ sense and commented acts of rape, it was against _their_ morals to have multiple sex partners. “How did ya find out they were still around?” he asked instead.

There was a significant pause before Wheeljack replied. “By chance: one of them ended up a slave and is owned by a couple of friends of mine. His time as a slave opened his optics and has denounced the Siren ways. Through him, I learned of another that very much _is_ still lock step in their ways… _that_ one is in hidin’.” There was a brief growl. “Both are former Spec Ops. The last one we found out about…was involved in findin’ ya.” Another growl. “Would’ve finished ya off if the other Enforcer that was with her didn’t have a spark. She’s dead now.”

So at least three had survived to the present day, but with only one of them an actual threat. “How many others could be out there?” he asked.

“I don’t know…,” Wheeljack sighed. “I’m hoping Flatwheel is the only _true_ one left….”

Ebonscream hoped so as well. However, he worried that even just _one_ Siren running around had the potential to cause a lot of damage if they had their wits about them. 

A more immediate concern, however, was that he got the gut feeling Wheeljack was keeping something from him….


	13. Delicate Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ebonscream has questions...some Wheeljack doesn't want to answer fully just yet....

_Ah, the alignment is definitely off…._ Wheeljack twirled the tool between his fingers a moment as he did some mental calculations before making some tweaks to the module. He smirked with satisfaction when he did the next test and all the gears and servos moved smoothly. The engineer then started securing the component into its proper place. He needed a different tool at one point, so he started digging in the various boxes littered around his small workspace, looking for it.

“Why don’t ya just set everythin’ out in order so ya don’t have ta keep searchin’ for a half-hour at a time when ya need somethin’?” Ebonscream remarked behind him. The seeker, still bedridden for the foreseeable future, had been watching him work while occasionally reading one of the history datapads. He imagined watching him was more entertaining than reading that dry scrap.

“’Cause I just know the moment I do…we’ll get a ‘Code Pillar’,” Wheeljack grumbled as he finally found the tool he was looking for. “So I need to be able to pack up quick for the bug out.”

“’Code Pillar’?” Ebonscream was looking at him quizzically.

Oh right, he still hadn’t filled him in fully on that. “Means ‘Ultra Magnus incoming.”

His mate was frowning with concern. “Ya and the others here are actively avoidin’ him?”

“Damn straight.”

“Why?”

“’Cause he has no _business_ leadin’ us,” Wheeljack snarled, stopping his work so he didn’t accidently break something in his anger. “For instance…he would have been perfectly _fine_ with leavin’ ya stuck in that lab…all because the _rules_ regardin’ goin’ into said labs. And that is even after I told ‘em we had intel that ya were actually still _alive_.”

Ebonscream was blinking rapidly, mouth slightly agape for a moment. “He…cares more about _procedure_ than _lives_?” he asked.

“That’s the gist of it,” Wheeljack sighed. “Was a high rankin’ member of the Elite Guard before he was tasked to lead us durin’ the war. Knows all the laws, rules, etcetera by spark…and can probably recite them _backwards_ if commanded. Lives by them to a fragging tee and expects everyone else around him to do the same, no matter who they are.”

His mate was clearly flabbergasted. “How…why did someone so clearly _incompatible_ end up in charge of us?”

At this Wheeljack sighed heavily. “We started to suffer high casualties durin’ the war at one point. We blamed it on bad intel, but Autobot Command was convinced it was due to lack of proper ‘discipline’, so Magnus was reassigned to try to ‘straighten us out’.”

Ebonscream was snorting in disgust. “Rules can only go so far when faced with the reality of battle,” he grumbled. “When faced with chaos…ya have ta be _flexible_.”

“Yeah…we tried explainin’ that to that stick-up-the-exhaust, I swear it always went in one audio and out the other,” Wheeljack grumbled as he resumed his work. “Needless to say, things didn’t improve much with his ‘help’. Then they started fillin’ our ranks with death row inmates and bots with either an obsession for glory or destruction…or just a death wish. Ya can imagine what that did to our reputation….” Ebonscream had a look of horror on his face. “Some of us ultimately left in protest: Bulkhead, for instance, flat out joined Team Prime.”

“What did _ya_ do?”

“Went loner for a time, did my own thin’,” Wheeljack replied softly. “Eventually semi-joined Team Prime, until the war ended with Megatron’s death. A bunch of us got back together after that, hopin’ we could get the Wreckers back the way they were. Unfortunately, Magnus was as unbendin’ as ever. Worse…it was unclear if he _supports_ Sentinel’s policies or not…not even Optimus was certain, so any requests he has for us, he tells us directly and not through him.”

“He’s a wild card in regards ta current events then…,” Ebonscream was muttering, rubbing his chin. “Any way ta find out his stance?’

“Not without compromisin’ our own,” he replied regretfully. “Considerin’ everythin’ we know about him, though? I wouldn’t be surprised he says ‘yes, Sir’ and licks Sentinel’s feet on command.”

“Ya are makin’ an assumption…,” Ebonscream warned disapprovingly.

“Ya, I know, but I feel it’s a very _safe_ one to make. Can’t take any chances…not with what is at stake.”

“Fair enough.”

Ebonscream had focused once more on the datapad, so Wheeljack resumed working on his project. _Hmm…looks like the power supply I chose won’t provide enough juice._ He had hoped this one would be sufficient, as all more powerful ones he had on hand were needed for other things. Looked like he may need to either improvise or disassemble a piece of equipment that wasn’t high on the priority list. Which one though? He leaned back in his chair, thinking it over.

“Jackie,” Ebonscream called out. “A question.”

“Yes, love?” Wheeljack replied, turning to give his mate his full attention. Ebonscream was staring at the pad, a look of mild confusion on his face.

“I’m currently readin’ about the Wrath Era,” Ebonscream began, but paused for a moment, looking uncertain.

Wheeljack felt his tank start to tighten. _Please let it not be about…._

“And it seems like…somethin’ is missin’?” Ebonscream continued. “Perhaps removed from this…version?”

Ah scrap…looks like they failed to remove mentions of Nightfire’s name cleanly enough to avoid his mate noticing. They didn’t like trying to hide that mech’s name, but until they got the confirmation they needed either way, it was best Ebonscream didn’t know about him. Wheeljack quickly racked his processor to think of a possible explanation. Ah, Sentinel’s an easy scapebot to use this for this….

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Sentinel has been alterin’ history to make himself look even better,” Wheeljack explained with a hint of bitterness. Wasn’t exactly a lie, as he wouldn’t put it past Sentinel to pull such a thing. Frag, if he ever managed to get rid of Optimus on a more ‘permanent’ basis…he’d probably find some way to twist it so that _he_ was the one that offed Megatron. “We’ll try to find a more… _accurate_ version for ya when we can.”

“Was anyone on Team Prime directly involved durin’ that time?” Ebonscream asked. “May be better ta verify from them.”

Ah, he _would_ think of that. “A few that I can remember off the top of my head,” Wheeljack replied, thankful that they had already asked such individuals to avoid talking about Nightfire when they visit. “Soundwave was a Council Member and Optimus worked as an archivist back then, for instance. But ya should focus on the more recent stuff when we see ‘em.”

Ebonscream’s lips were pressed then as his brows were furrowed in clear thought. “You’re right…,” he agreed after a moment. “The details of deeper history can wait….”

Wheeljack mentally started to sigh with relief…

“But why are ya so insistent on keepin’ certain things from me?” His spark felt like it just stopped. Ebonscream was looking at him now with a mildly hurt and confused expression. Scrap…he must have seen the panic that briefly flashed on his face.

_Thinkthinkthink!_ Primus he needed to be _very_ careful here! “Some things are best ya not know about,” he replied. “Not yet, at least.”

“Why?” Ebonscream prompted, looking more concerned and confused now.

“Even explainin’ that may be too much for ya right now,” Wheeljack responded softly.

Ebonscream was frowning, then looked away, disappointment etched upon his face. “Ya think I can’t handle…whatever it is…right now?” he muttered. “I’m hurt by your lack of confidence in me….”

Wheeljack sighed and moved to sit beside him on the berth. “I don’t like keepin’ this from ya either, Ebs,” he told him, placing a hand on his back. “But ya have enough on your plate as is.”

“This is related ta that thing ya only have a speculation about, isn’t it?” Ebonscream asked.

“One of them is, yes….”

“’One’?”

Scrap. “The other thin’ is a rather…delicate matter…as well…,” he confessed. “I’d rather ya heal a bit before I tell ya about that.” Ebonscream probably _would_ want to outright _murder_ Flashwing if he told him about him now. “It’s…mostly a precaution right now.”

“Humph…fine…,” Ebonscream grumbled. “Ya better hope I _agree_ with your reasonin’ when ya finally fill me in on _both_ those things.”

Wheeljack flinched. “Yeah, so do I…,” he admitted.

“In the meantime….” Wheeljack only just caught a hint of that devilish smirk before he found himself suddenly pulled flat into the seeker’s lab. This was followed by the feeling of something being dragged between the seams of his plating.

“Ugh! Ebony!” Wheeljack protested trying to squirm away, but his mate had planted the elbow of his bad arm right at the nape of his neck. “Ya know I hate bein’ preened!”

“Consider this punishment for keepin’ things from me,” Ebonscream purred teasingly. “Primus…when was the last time ya gave yourself a thorough scrubbin’?”

Wheeljack replied with a heavy sigh and just took it. This was preferable to his mate wanting to go murder a reformed mech…or have a breakdown over another mech that may end up not being their lost child….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could say Wheeljack hates mindfields...both of the physical and mental kinds >:D


	14. Mental Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung talks to not one, but two stubborn mechs....

This was not a mech to trifle with, that was the first impression Rung got when he entered the room. Despite being bed ridden and one arm restricted by a sling, Ebonscream still had this ‘presence’ about him that told the psychologist he would fight with everything he had if he had to. Adding to this impression was that Ebonscream did not look away with nervousness or anxiety like many of his patients did on their first session. No, this seeker stared right at him with a faint frown on his face as his red optics looked him over. Analyzing him…gauging how much of a threat he was to his safety.

Behind that initial ‘tough guy’ air, however, Rung could pick out the signs of mental distress in his body language. His primary wings were slightly further back than a true calm/neutral state, hinting at fear, but more likely sorrow. Minors were high and tight, revealing anxiety and uncertainty. His free hand wasn’t still: it kept trying to rub the forearm of the other arm, perhaps to scratch at it? A nervous tick? Or a sign of a bad coping mechanism?

All this he picked up before he had even sat down.

“So ya are Rung?” Ebonscream queried before he could introduce himself. Underworld accent, that, on its own, revealed a bit more about this mech’s history.

“I am,” Rung confirmed.

“Those glasses…,” the seeker commented. “Are they required for your optics ta function properly?”

He blinked at him in mild surprise: it was very rare for anyone to even _notice_ those were not a part of his frame. Observant. “They are not,” he replied honestly.

“Can ya please take them off?” Ebonscream requested. “I don’t like not being able ta tell where a bot is lookin’. Reminds me of some of the critters of the Underworld….”

Control. He was grabbing what control he could to cope with this new situation.

“Understandable,” Rung acknowledged as he took off his glasses and put them in his subspace, noting the seeker’s frame relaxing slightly in the process. “Born there?”

“As many were durin’ the Calamity.”

Rung nodded as he took a moment to think on how best to steer the conversation, to direct it toward what needed to be talked about. “I heard it was tough living down there.”

“It was not a place for the weak or careless,” Ebonscream confirmed. For the first time, his optics looked elsewhere, their gaze shifting down to the berth. Wings canting down slightly. “Or the arrogant, for that matter.”

“An old mistake?” Rung asked, seeing a possible thread of access.

“Let’s just say that when your caretakers tell ya a tunnel is not safe ta travel through…it fraggin’ _isn’t safe to travel through_.” There was bitterness in Ebonscream’s voice, but Rung could tell it was toward himself, not him. “I was arrogant in my youth…,” the seeker continued. “Overconfident even…I thought I had learned not ta be so after that….”

“What do you mean?” Rung prompted.

In response, Ebonscream looked down at his right arm, which he now had cradled against his chest. He was staring at something that was no longer there. A phantom sensation, Rung suspected.

“Overconfidence cost me somethin’ very precious….,” Ebonscream spoke softly, tears starting to rim his optics. “My child…”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Rung asked carefully. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

“What good would that do?” Ebonscream sighed. “Talkin’ about it won’t brin’ Nightfire back….”

Ah…that’s why Wheeljack warned him about that. The likelihood Ebonscream would assume ‘Nightfire’, the hero of the Wrath War, was the same ‘Nightfire’ he had lost was very high.

“No,” Rung admitted. “But neither will keeping your feelings buried.”

A twitch of the wings, a faint, brief snarl. He’s had that said to him before. Ebonscream was rubbing his forearm again as well. Then a faint sigh of resignation. “I…I had just learned I was carryin’ when I was captured by the Quintessons…” the seeker began. Rung listened carefully and polity as Ebonscream told him the story.

It was Primus blessed _luck_ Ebonscream had made it as close as he did. He had just given birth, an event that usually leaves a bot bedridden for a few hours at least…and yet had nearly succeeded in escaping a maze-like laboratory full of traps and enemies while carrying a newborn. A testament to the mech’s skill and sheer _determination_ , but it hadn’t quite been enough. To be cut down right at the exit…spark crushing.

However, it wasn’t ‘overconfidence’ that did him in. Not exactly. No, it was form of ‘victory disease’: all the ‘victories’ he won during his escape attempt caused him to become complacent at the worst possible time. Telling him this, however, would be nitpicking over a technically, as ‘overconfidence’ and ‘victory disease’ had the same effect. Now that he had the full story, he needed to start the healing process.

“I condemned him ta a life of pain and sufferin’….,” Ebonscream was sobbing.

Starting with nipping that line of thought in the bud.

“No, you did not,” Rung told him carefully.

“How did I not!?” Ebonscream snapped bitterly, tear stains on his cheeks. “I failed…I failed ta escape with him! Ta get him out of there!”

“But did you agree to let the Quintessons have him?” Rung countered.

“No, never!”

“Did you ever submit to the Quintessons desires?”

“Not a chance!”

“Did you physically _hand_ him over to them?”

“No!”

“Then it was not _you_ that condemned him to that fate,” Rung explained carefully. “ _You_ did _everything_ in your power to prevent it.”

“But I let complacency….”

“Yes…but _they_ were the ones _took_ him from your arms,” Rung stressed. “You only ‘failed’ because they had stripped you of all means of resisting. That…is not your fault.”

He watched as Ebonscream quietly sobbed for a few moments. Once he was ready to talk again, Rung started going over various mental excises with him he could use to help him cope and heal. To finish off the session, Rung had asked him how he was doing coping with the time loss. He was to pleased to hear that the Wreckers had a ‘storytime’ tradition that proved to be very helpful to Ebonscream in this regard. Before they could go further, unfortunately, a ‘Code Pillar’ was declared.

If he hadn’t been previously warned about it, he would have been a bit annoyed, frustrated even at the event. Instead, Rung was rather impressed: the Wrecker’s had the ‘pack up and clear out’ process down to a science. By the time Rung had made his way to the main ‘entrance’ of the building, the Wreckers were gone with barely a trace of their presence. Well…save for one.

Standing in the entrance of building was a familiar blue, white and red convoy class mech. Ultra Magnus was looking around the lobby with an angrier scowl on his face than usual, yet he caught a flicker of relief? The Wrecker Commander then leveled his gaze at him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, a hint of tension in his tone.

“I was seeing a patient,” Rung replied, putting his glasses back on. “But your impending arrival cut our session short, Magnus.”

A flicker of concern flashed across the convoy’s face, but that was quickly replaced with distain. “You will address me properly, Rung.”

Ah, that’s right. This one was a stickler for procedure, no matter the situation. “My apologies, Commander. In my profession, I am used to a more…’causal’…approach,” he stated. “Do keep in mind, however, that since I am a civilian, referring to members of the military by their rank is more of a _courtesy_ and not a _requirement_.”

Ultra Magnus’ scowl deepened for a second, but he did not comment on that. Instead the convoy stepped into the building fully. “Where did they go?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I was not on the ‘need to know’ list for that,” Rung replied with a shrug.

“But you will be visiting them again,” Magnus stated. “You just admitted to seeing a patient.”

“No, I will not inform you of their location next time I have appointment,” Rung stated flatly before the convoy could continue. “I will not compromise my patient’s well-being.”

Ultra Magnus was impressing him with just how much deeper he could scowl. “Who is it?”

“Now, now, Magnus,” Rung chided with a finger wag. “ _You_ , of all mechs, know the rules regarding patient confidentially.”

“My mistake,” the Commander admitted, his scowl finally disappearing. “Though I suspect it is Wheeljack.” Annnnd the scowl was back. “He was quite upset last time we spoke ‘properly’.”

Well, Wheeljack did admit he could probably use his services as well but had insisted he focus on Ebonscream first. “Was he now?” Rung prompted, fishing for details.

“He claimed they got information on a long-lost Wrecker trapped in one of the Quintesson labs,” Ultra Magnus explained. “Was insisting on going to get them out. I told him no on the count of those labs being strictly off limits and finding his ‘intel’ questionable at best. A mech still alive in there after all that time? Impossible.”

Not so, as he just saw said mech, but he wasn’t about to inform the Commander of that. Patient confidentiality after all.

“Now he and most of the veteran Wreckers and have gone AWOL!” Ultra Magnus snarled, starting to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. It wasn’t a relaxed grip, however. “I thought I had understood where their loyalties lay: I was apparently incorrect.”

Rung scratched his chin a moment. “Sounds like the mech in the lab was someone they considered very important to them,” Rung remarked carefully. “That you refused to even _consider_ a rescue likely caused you to lose what trust and respect you had with them.”

“Not like they did so to begin with, the veterans at least,” Ultra Magnus growled, sharply turning toward him. “I’d love to just cut them out of the group and be rid of the processor ache, but in these times, I’d rather be able to keep an optic on them.”

“If you wish for them to stay within optic sight, Commander,” Rung began. “Perhaps it would benefit for you to have your social anxiety treated.”

Ultra Magnus recoiled, his arms dropping to his sides, optics widening in shock. “I do not-“

“You’ve been visibly tense this whole conversation,” Rung interrupted, lowering his glasses so he could peer at him over them. “A tension that was only not there when you initially thought you were completely alone here. You do not want to interact with others but have no choice due to your station. You ‘cope’ by putting up an unbending façade based on rules and regulations and exert control over all situations you are faced with by expecting everyone else to follow them to a fault. All to avoid discomfort and embarrassment. I recommend exposer therapy.”

The convoy was just standing there for a few seconds, mouth agape, before his trademark scowl returned. “I am _not_ your patient!” he snapped. Ah, the denial…how unfortunate.

“No,” Rung admitted with a shrug. “Consider this a freebie. Now, if you ever change your mind on wanting help, you know how to reach me. In the meantime, do try to consider things from _their_ perspective.” He walked past him as he added with a casual hand flick. “It may make working with them easier.”

All he heard was a disapproving growl before he transformed and speed off. Someday, Rung hoped, Ultra Magnus will open up to someone, even if it wasn’t to him….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grumble* Why is it when I get close to finishing a fic my muses decide to go 'oh, getting close to the end? WRITERS BLOCK!'


	15. Enforcing Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evidence

The preliminary report he got from the exploration team was not good.

Flatwheel half-sighed/half-growled as he read it again. There had been evidence of something _big_ having been removed from that laboratory. Like, stasis pod sized…and one big enough to hold a seeker. The chances of Ebonscream having been found was high…and that did not bode well for his plans. The team was collecting any evidence they could, as ordered, but that will take time to get back here and process.

He may not need that evidence, however, considering the report he got regarding what was once Ratchet’s clinic. Signs of use after Team Prime had abandoned the planet…coincidence? He doubted it.

Inspector Viceswitch had done the initial report, stating there had been no sign of the intruders themselves while she was there. Her supervisor, however, suspected otherwise, but Viceswitch had, thus far, stuck to her story. It had been suggested she may need a bit more… _persuasion_.

Gladly.

Viceswitch was due to arrive soon. So while he waited, he kept himself busy by checking other reports. Namely the names and current locations of Cybertronians Sentinel had been ‘advised’ to put on ‘probation’ rather than in jail by Optimus. Flashwing’s owners were on that list, how interesting. Considering what _one_ of them was, that may be a useful barging tool should he need it. So he put them at the bottom of the ‘potential threat’ list and made a note to assign someone to keep their optics on their activities. There was a chance they would go into hiding once word reached them that Team Prime had fled….

“Sir,” his assistant announced. “Inspector Viceswitch is here.”

“Excellent,” Flatwheel acknowledged. “Send her in.”

What walked in was a rather, unappealing looking femme. There was a hint of anxiety in her posture, but she kept a professional, neutral, expression on her face. “Reporting as ordered, Sir,” she announced, standing at attention.

“At ease, Viceswitch, please sit,” Flatwheel greeted, gesturing to the seat. Once the femme had done so he continued. “I wish to discuss the recent inspection of Ratchet’s clinic.”

There was a noticeable twitch in one of her optics. Could mean she’s worried about being caught, or just tired of being questioned about it. “I understand some question the accuracy of my report,” she stated. “But I do not believe I missed anything.”

“Perhaps not _intentionally_ ,” Flatwheel remarked, folding his hands. “But little details…so easily missed…can be just as important as the obvious ones.”

“Sir?” She looked a bit confused.

“I do not blame you…inspecting things can be such a boring, dreary job…” Flatwheel sighed. “It can become easy to become _complacent_ … _lazy_ …even.…”

“I would never-!” she started to protest, but he held up a hand for silence.

“Again…I said ‘not ‘intentionally’,” he reminded her. “Your supervisor noted details in his own report that you missed.”

“Such as?” Viceswitch queried, her tone slightly lower than normal.

“In one of the operating theaters, he noted a partly used tank of nanite solution, the tubes connected to it had some solution in it…still dripping onto the floor. None of those drops, he noted, had started to dry, hinting that whoever was there had left just before he had arrived.”

She looked a bit stiff, so he continued.

“So I believe either you were taking your _very_ sweet time on the other side of the clinic…or.” He briefly held up a finger. “You knew about the intruder’s presence, but ignored them…perhaps even warned them of your supervisor’s impending arrival?”

Silence. Oh, he loved seeing the turmoil in her optics. Admit to extreme incompetence, or to lying on her report? Both carried heavy penalties. Would be such a shame, as from what he saw on her file, her record had been pristine until now.

“It is one or the other, Viceswitch,” Flatwheel prompted. “Perhaps I can be _lenient_ if the reasoning behind it is reasonable?”

He watched as Viceswitch took in a deep intake, then let it out again slowly, her optics closed. “There were other bots in there when I arrived…,” she finally confessed, her optics now gazing at the floor.

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. He smirked with satisfaction.

“And why did you not kick them out immediately?” Flatwheel asked. “Call for backup?”

“They were working to save a critically injured patient,” was the answer. “Forcing them to evacuate immediately would have likely killed said patient.”

Understandable, he had to admit, but….

“They could have gone to any other clinic in the city,” Flatwheel remarked.

“I do not know why they did not go somewhere else,” she admitted. “Aside from their claim that Ratchet had given them permission to use his clinic in his absence.”

Which would imply Ratchet knew they were coming but was able to see to them himself due to his and the rest of Team Prime’s act of cowardice. “How many and who?” he demanded.

Viceswitch was quiet a moment. “Four for certain, including the patient. Thought I heard a fifth at one point, but cannot confirm,” she replied softly. “As for ‘who’…I only recognized two of them. One was Wheeljack….”

Wreckers. He had to suppress the sneer that was threatening to form on his face. That they were there wasn’t enough to use against them on it’s own. If he could somehow connect this incident to the lab one however….

“The other…I never learned his name, but he was the patient,” Viceswitch continued. “I barely recognized him…as it had been so long since I was saved by him.”

Ah…a personal motivation for going against protocol. Repaying an old debit. Noble, but potentially detrimental to the current status quo. “’Saved’?” he echoed.

“He and a few others rescued me from the grips of a terrible group, the Sirens, whom were attempting to processor wash me.”

Flatwheel stiffened slightly at this information, but fortunately the femme had still not been looking at him at that moment. So she was an initiate…but was stolen away before she could be convinced fully. A pity. Perhaps that could be rectified later, once his position was more secure.

It also strengthened his suspicion on who this patient was. “Describe him,” Flatwheel prompted as he brought up a database of known Wreckers, past and present. He was never really _told_ what Ebonscream looked like by his kin, as they assumed he was dead, but there was always the process of elimination. 

The moment she mentioned ‘seeker’ however, the database came up empty. This was both helpful and unhelpful. Helpful as it eliminated any Wrecker on said database as being this patient: it made sense that Ebonscream wouldn’t have been on it to begin with due to the era he had disappeared in. Unhelpful, as he now only had Viceswitch’s word the mech she saw was a Wrecker at all.

Let alone the mech being a _former_ occupant of a certain Quintesson lab….

“Are you certain the mech was a seeker?” he asked, for formalities sake. “The Wreckers have no seekers in their ranks according to our database.”

Viceswitch was nodding. “While at the time of my rescue, none of us could transform, he had the anatomy of we know as an interdictor-class seeker today,” she replied.

Helpful, as there weren’t too many of those still alive today, let alone _free_ ones. It would be simple matter of giving the Enforcer patrols this description and instructing them to do a ‘verification check’ on any seeker matching that description.

Getting a hit on that, however, may take some time. He’ll need up his chances of getting proof Ebonscream was still alive. But first.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he told the femme. “Unfortunately, there will be consequences for lying on your report.”

“I understand, Sir,” Viceswitch sighed, lowering her head. “I will accept whatever punishment you see fit.”

“I have yet to decide on what would be appropriate,” Flatwheel informed her. “I will inform your supervisor once I do. You are dismissed.” He watched as Viceswitch nodded once before standing and leaving the room.

Not enough. Still mostly speculation and anecdotal evidence. He needed something _solid_! Ah, Wait…that’s right. _He_ was in command of the Wreckers. Perhaps _he_ had noticed something? Like a new seeker among their ranks?

Flatwheel took a moment to figure out how best to approach the issue before dialing Ultra Magnus’ number. Once he confirmed Ebonscream’s presence, he can move on to the next step….

…and he was already thinking of a few ideas. One of them…if he played it right…had the potential to take out Wheeljack along with Ebonscream….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's an official total chap count now, but there _might_ be one more squeezed in....


	16. Another World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To get what he needs, Ebonscream makes a trip to another world....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameos and mentions of The Pound characters ahoy! That said, I'd like to thank Steena for looking over the relevant bits of the next few chaps for character accuracy!

It was finally time; they had told him. Ebonscream had felt a kick of excitement: he was going to visit another world! That excitement, however, became tempered when he was told how they would get there. This ‘space bridge’, the whole ‘tunnel ripped through the fabric of time and space’ thing, did not sound _safe_. He was assured, however, that their kind had been using this technology for a very long time, thus was perfectly safe.

Getting to the location they would _take_ the bridge was troublesome, however. He couldn’t transform due to the deformities in his protoform, which meant he had to be carried there. Jetfire got them as close as he could without drawing attention, but the rest of the way had to be traversed on the ground. Ebonscream had quickly decided riding in a covered trolley was the most undignified and uncomfortable means of transport _ever_! Plus, he was _certain_ Bulkhead was going over those bumps _on purpose_.

“Bulkhead…if ya go over one more large bump,” Ebonscream growled into the shortwave comms after a particularly large jolt. Hopefully, he was doing that right: this…instant communication thing was still new to him. “I swear I’ll carve a new exhaust out of your aft!” To empathize his displeasure, he took the saber Wheeljack had given him and scraped it against the trolley wall.

//Sorry, Ebs,\\\ Bulkhead replied sheepishly.

His point made, he sheathed the saber back into place on his hip. Weaponry wasn’t likely going to be needed where they were going, but Wheeljack had insisted. 

_“I want ya to have it now, to not only show we are one…but to symbolize the Wreckers are startin’ to return to their roots.”_ Wheeljack had told him. _“When you...and the rest of us… are a hundred percent again…I’ll return the other one.”_

He had asked him what he would fight with if he had both sabers. Wheeljack had cheekily replied ‘with my fists, like the old days’. Ebonscream wasn’t sure he was comfortable about that. Perhaps they could find a swordsmith the craft him a pair of swords specifically for him someday. The question was…was there swordsmith that could match Stormwise’s skill in this day and age?

//We’re almost there, love,\\\ Wheeljack spoke up, snapping his mind back to more immediate matters. //Just a bit longer.\\\

He Primus damned _hoped_ so! His aft wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this abuse….

//Area is clear,\\\ Eclipse was heard over the comms. 

That was a relief, but it was the relief was greater when they finally stopped, and he was taken out of that damn trolly. Being carried by Wheeljack was a lot more preferable, even if it was a bit awkward for his mate due to the height difference: Wheeljack had done so repeatedly without complaint thus far. 

“I don’t see anythin’?” he remarked with a bit of confusion when he saw nothing but a platform with a lone archway ahead of them.

“It’s not active yet,” Hammercircuit told him, then looked over at Bulkhead. “Make sure you don’t fat finger the coordinates: we don’t want to end up in a black hole!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bulkhead grumbled as he worked a control panel. 

Moments later a large swirling green disk of light appeared on the platform. Primus, his optics were starting to hurt just _looking_ at it and it was _loud._ “Fall back to Jetfire once we’re through,” he heard Wheeljack tell Bulkhead. “We don’t know how long we’ll be, so we’ll have Sounders message you when we are gettin’ ready to come back.” His mate then looked at him. “Ready?”

“No…,” Ebonscream admitted, tearing his gaze away from the space bridge. “But I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Lingerin’ will draw attention, so no…,” Wheeljack sighed as he stepped toward the bridge and entered it.

That disk wasn’t really a disk…but a tunnel of swirling light! Ebonscream had trouble telling what was up or down…left or right…whether they were going backwards or forwards. It ended just as suddenly as it began, leaving him feeling confused.

“That was disorientin’…,” Ebonscream grumbled, rubbing his optics as he heard the noise of the space bridge behind them cease. 

“Ya get used to it.” He heard Wheeljack chuckle as he felt him shift his body in his arms a bit.

“Can we just take that ship ya told me ya have next time?” Ebonscream grumbled, his sensory equipment still trying to right themselves.

“Someday I’d love to take you in the _Jackhammer_ ,” Wheeljack confessed. “But it would have taken a few months, at least, to fly it from Cybertron to here.”

Right…and time wasn’t exactly a luxury they had.

Finally, his senses stopped freaking out and he was able to look upon the world they traveled to…and his processor went into a different kind of sensory overload. No longer were they standing upon a metal planet in various shades of grey, lit up in a mix of blue and yellow lights. Instead, he found himself surrounded by multiple shades of brown and green and a bright blue sky above them. Ebonscream’s olfactory sensors were going haywire picking up a dizzying host of new scents mixed in with the faint familiar ones from home. The fauna here at least didn’t sound _too_ different from what he could tell. A part of him wished Wheeljack would put him down so he could _feel_ this new planet as well.

The only thing remotely familiar to him were a number of Cybertronian styled buildings a short distance in front of them. Approaching them from there was a yellow and black vehicle. Once it reached them, it transformed into a young mech.

“Welcome to Earth.” the mech greeted, his voice sounding like he was mimicking a radio…but his language wasn’t Cybertronian: his new translation software informed him it was ‘English’. Then the mech switched to Cybertronian Basic. :Good to see you again, Wheeljack!:

“Likewise, Bumblebee,” Wheeljack replied, then inclined his head toward Hammercircuit. “This is Hammercircuit, a fellow Wrecker. And this…” The cheeky slagger kissed him on the helm. “Is my bondmate, Ebonscream.”

The young mech’s optics widened. :Oh! Congratulations, Jackie!:

Wheeljack was chuckling. “Ah, don’t congratulate…we’ve been bonded since before the Quints came knockin’.”

Bumblebee looked confused. :Wait…he’s not a rescued slave?:

“Unless ya count bein’ stuck in a Quintesson life support pod for eons as bein’ ‘enslaved’, then no,” Ebonscream replied curtly.

The widening of Bumblebee’s optics was now at ‘comical’ level. :I’m so sorry for making such an assumption!:

“It’s alright, kid,” Wheeljack replied. “Is Optimus available?”

:Unfortunately, no,” Bumblebee replied with a sigh. :Agent Fowler got riled up so they’re in an emergency meeting, don’t know how long that will take.:

Wheeljack groaned and rolled his optics. “OK…who decided to misbehave?”

:The twins.:

“Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?” A nod. “Do we _even_ want to know?”

:Uh…no…:

“Designated team troublemakers?” Ebonscream asked, to which all three of them responded with a ‘yes’. “I see….” Potential Wrecker material perhaps? Best not jump to conclusions: after all, he didn’t know what they did to warrant this reaction. “And who is…Agent Fowler?”

“Our liaison with the humans,” Wheeljack replied. “Makes sure we do our part to stay hidden from the general public and all. Has a big bearings for someone his size: won’t back down even if the biggest of us is staring him down.”

“Huh…sounds like an interesting character ta meet.”

“Hopefully when ya do, it is when he’s in one of his better moods,” Wheeljack remarked. “I’m gonna guess Prowl and Soundwave are wrapped up in this meetin’ as well?” Bumblebee nodded. “Frag, well then…is Ratchet not busy? May as well see about the medical side of the visit while we wait….”

:Ratchet is _always_ busy,: the young mech sighed with a roll of his optics before turning and gesturing for them to follow.

“Why is he only speakin’ in Basic…and why did he assume I was a slave earlier?” Ebonscream whispered to his mate as they followed.

“His vocalizer was destroyed durin’ the war,” Wheeljack whispered back. “Ratchet has been unable to fix it thus far, so he has no choice but to talk in either Basic or using clips from human radio programs.”

“How unfortunate….” Guess medical technology hasn’t advanced far enough to fix everything just yet.

“As for your second question,” Hammercircuit spoke up. “Most bots of your frame type went to the Con side during the war, thus those that survived were made into slaves. Many of them are suspected to be in Sentinel’s ‘stable’….”

“I see….” Ebonscream felt a shudder of revulsion course through his frame. He opted not to ask any more questions for the time being and instead focused on the base they had entered.

So many unfamiliar faces, but that was to be expected considering his circumstances. More curious though, were the tiny beings he could see working with them. They weren’t made of metal, like he was…looked soft and squishy? How easy it must be to kill one by accident….

The loud cry of ‘I needed that’ drew his attention from the building they were heading toward. This was followed by a yelp and a mech running out like his aft was on fire, a wrench flying after him. Said wrench succeeded in pinging the mech on the back of the head, causing him to stumble a bit, but he regained his footing before transforming and speeding away in alt-mode.

“Ya weren’t kiddin’ about the wrenches…,” Ebonscream muttered as he watched Hammercircuit stoop to pick up the wrench. Bumbleblee had giggled a bit before wishing them luck and taking his leave.

“And his aim is as good as mine,” Hammercircuit told him warningly as they entered the building. Inside, they quickly spotted the reason for the ‘wrench toss’: apparently, the fleeing mech must have accidently knocked over stack of crates, which knocked over a piece of medical equipment. They spotted Ratchet grumbling as he and a few light-green and purple mechs cleaned up the mess. 

“Hey, Doc,” Wheeljack called out. “Still dealin’ with problem bots, I see.”

There was a flinch in the old medic’s frame, as Ratchet looked up to glare at them. His glare immediately softened into relief. “Thank, Primus…,” he breathed as he stopped what he was doing and approached them. “From the message you sent, I feared the transfer didn’t fully take….” He looked him over. “How are you feeling, Ebony?”

“As well as can be expected, Ratchet,” Ebonscream replied with a sigh. “I’ll…leave it ta Hammer ta fill ya in on what’s wrong….”

“Fair enough. Wheeljack, set him down on the berth over there then help clean this mess up while Hammer and I discuss his case.”

“But-,” Wheeljack started to protest but a glare from Ratchet shut him up as he did what he was told.

Ebonscream, basically alone for the moment, took the opportunity to glance around. This medbay was definitely designed to be more _permanent_ than the one the Wrecker medics had, but he could tell it was still somewhat incomplete. Hopefully Ratchet had the tools needed to fix his limbs.

As he looked around, he spotted someone he hadn’t noticed when they first entered. A light-blue and white seeker with dark blue accents lying flat on a separate berth. The poor mech’s wings were incomplete, parts missing either due to damage or in-progress repairs. Ebonscream could safely assume the damage was caused by his time as a slave, which were being worked on by a couple other of those light-green and purple mechs.

The seeker had noticed him and was staring, optics squinted in confusion. Occasionally, the seeker’s optics flicked over his wings, a hint of longing and jealousy flashing within them. That part he could understand, but why did he seem confused at his presence in general? He didn’t get a chance to ask, however, as Hammercircuit and Ratchet had finished their discussion.

“Alright, Ebony,” Ratchet was saying. “I’m to run a few thorough scans on you, so you’ll need to lay down and stay still.”

“Understood,” Ebonscream replied as he did as he was asked. He reflexively shut his optics as the medics ran a beam of green light over him several times. It was then a several minute wait as the two medics analyzed the results.

“Unfortunately, this won’t be a ‘quick’ fix,” Ratchet finally announced. “Because of the defects in the protoform, the nanites had caused distortion not only in your armor plating, but within the affected limbs as well, especially at the joints.”

“I can ‘feel’ that much,” Ebonscream muttered with a sigh.

“Ratchet will be showing me how to best repair these areas, so we can continue to do it ourselves back on Cybertron,” Hammercircuit remarked. “That said, we’ll be focusing on your leg first, so that you can at least walk without pain.”

“You will likely always have a slight limp in that leg, however,” Ratchet warned.

“Understood,” Ebonscream acknowledged. “Do what ya need ta do.”

Unfortunately, the first thing they ‘needed’ to do was to remove the pain blockers. Ebonscream winced and groaned in pain as Ratchet had him attempt to move both his right leg and left arm in various ways to identity the most painful areas. Wheeljack, bless his spark, had allowed him to grip his arm during this painful process and didn’t even wince when he made a few deep scratches in his plating with his claws. 

Once that was over with, the painblockers were reinstalled. Hammercircuit repaired the scratches he made on Wheeljack while Ratchet detached his right leg at the hip. It was rather…disconcerting…seeing one of his limbs being detached like that. 

Ratchet also took an energon sample from him, while Hammercircuit moved to do the same to Wheeljack. “I’ve been takin’ those nasty supplements,” Wheeljack growled in protest. Hammercircuit then whispered something in his audio and his expression softened. “Oh…right.”

Ebonscream frowned, wondering what that was all about. If it wasn’t to check his mineral levels, what was it for? Was there something wrong his love was keeping from him? Before he could ask, however, a newcomer had come into the bay. “Ebonscream?” a mech’s voice spoke.

He looked up to see slender, yet imposing looking mech a few feet away from him, his face nothing but a large visor. That on its own was a bit unsettling: he really didn’t like not seeing where a bot was looking. “I am,” he replied, politely.

“Soundwave,” Wheeljack remarked as he joined his side. “Thought Bee said you were tied up in a meetin’ with Fowler?”

“Was,” Soundwave acknowledged. “Meeting is finished. Prime and Prowl are now ‘talking’ to the twins. Other involved parties have spoken too already.”

“’Talking’ meaning ‘lecturing’,” Ratchet was mumbling. “Those two need something more ‘corporal’ to get it to _stick_ in their damn processors to not cause trouble.”

Soundwave was simply shrugging at this, before his looked toward him again. “From what I’ve been told, you have been missing for some time?”

“Since before the Wrath War,” Ebonscream confirmed. “I’ve only recently been awakened from stasis, thus I missed out on…a lot…of things. I sorely need context, details, of what happened ta that led up ta this situation before I can play my part in resolvin’ it.”

“I see.” The Communications Officer folded his arms, one hand on his ‘chin’. “Come. Let us go to a more comfortable location. This may take a while.”

“What of Optimus?” Wheeljack asked, Ebonscream watching as he fetched a hoverchair. “We’re supposed to talk with him as well.”

“Optimus’ _lectures_ can take ‘awhile’,” Soundwave remarked cheekily. “Especially when Prowl is with him.”

“Point…those two can drone on forever….”

Ebonscream had to snicker a bit at that as Wheeljack helped him into the hoverchair. Ah, now he can get around without his mate having to carry him. “Who was the other seeker in there?” he asked as they left the medbay.

“Thundercracker,” Soundwave replied. “One of the Command Trine.”

“Scrap, that means we’ll likely have an encounter with Starscream soon…,” Wheeljack grumbled.

Ebonscream rolled his optics. “Ya still think an encounter with him is such a bad thin’?” he retorted.

“I’m a bettin’ type of mech,” his mate sighed. “But bettin’ on whether or not the planet would survive a snark war between you two is _not_ one I’ll make…”

“Hmmm…that kind of encounter may be worth _documenting_ …,” Soundwave remarked, prompting a facepalm from Wheeljack.

As amusing as it was, Ebonscream still felt like Wheeljack was being too paranoid….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I'd decided to split chap 180 of 'Karma' (and maybe 181), into two. As a result, I found a _better_ place to pause 'Karma', thus, the pause point will be back at 180.


	17. Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tale of Screams

Soundwave had taken them into a meeting of sorts, where they spent the next couple of hours or so talking. While he had found Soundwave initially unnerving, Ebonscream was fascinated by him by the end. This mech was amazing, capable of repeating voice clips of anyone he had heard, play back visual feeds both himself and his symbionts had recorded. A living database, essentially.

With Soundwave’s help, Ebonscream now understood how Cybertronian society started to crumble. Seeds of corruption left over from the Quintesson occupation taking root and spreading. How sad it was that Megatron became consumed by a lust for power so quickly, becoming the very thing he hated. The blindness of Sentinel for not seeing he was slipping into Quintesson tactics of control. He wondered if they had completely ditched the government system the Quintessons had created for them if things would have turned out the same way. No way of knowing that now. 

There were still questions, however, which Soundwave couldn’t answer, at least not fully. Ones Optimus, Soundwave had told him, _should_ be able to answer. With it being unknown on how long it would be before Optimus was available, they were led to the mess hall to top off their tanks. Unfortunately, it was just before they were to enter said building when Wheeljack’s feared inevitability happened.

“So you’re the strange seeker my trinemate told me about,” a someone remarked. The pitch of that voice made it hard to tell if it was a mech or femme. When Ebonscream looked in that direction, he saw a red, white and blue seeker mech leaning against a wall, his arms folded across his chest. He heard Wheeljack mutter an ‘oh scrap’ as the seeker pushed off the wall and approached. The seeker made a show of looking him over. “Yep, never seen you before.”

“Ya say that as if that was a bad thin’,” Ebonscream remarked. “Starscream, I presume? I’m Ebonscream.”

The seeker recoiled, his expression twisting into disgust. “Ugh…who taught you how to _speak_? No _proper_ seeker talks like that!”

Ebonscream snorted faintly. “’Proper’?” he echoed, resting his head on a hand. “Ya mean the elitist pricks I’ve heard about whom kept their noses stuck up in the air and walkin’ as if they all had rods up their exhausts?” The seeker’s optics widened, but before he could respond Ebonscream added. “And ya didn’t confirm your identity…how rude.”

“Yes, it’s Starscream,” the mech finally retorted stiffy before tilting his head up while a hand was on his chest. “Former Winglord of Vos and ex-Second-in-Command of the Decepticon Army.” There as pride in the seeker’s tone.

“Such impressive titles that unfortunately mean so little now, don’t they?” Ebonscream remarked.

“It _means_ I knew every seeker on the planet!” Starscream growled. “And yet, here is a seeker before me I don’t know.”

Ah, that explains why Thundercracker had been looking at him confused: it would make sense for someone in that position to be familiar with every one of his frame type. “Guess that means ya really didn’t know _all_ seekers,” he countered smugly.

Starscream was glaring at him. “I suppose this means you have two trinemates I don’t know about either,” he stated stiffly.

“I don’t have a trine,” he replied simply, shrugging casually.

Starscream was blinking in shock. “Ugh, great…one of _those_ that think they don’t need a wingman.”

“I was created before we even _discovered_ the ability ta transform, Starscream,” Ebonscream informed him. “Let alone the ability ta fly.” He let that sink in a moment, watching with a smirk as Starscream’s optics widened in surprise. “Besides, if I needed back up, I have my bondmate, Wheeljack.” Wheeljack, who still looked a bit anxious, nodded. “And the rest of the Wreckers.”

Starscream’s optics were flicking back and forth between them. “Just how does a _seeker_ get so much clout in _that_ group?”

“It helps that I am one of the foundin’ members,” Ebonscream responded. “Along with bein’ their tactician and trainer.”

“Really? You did a poor job considering the Wrecker _casualty_ rate during the war.” There was a smugness in that tone Ebonscream wanted to smack.

“That…,” Ebonscream growled warningly as he straightened up and leaned forward, wings flaring slightly. He felt ‘caution’ from Wheeljack over their bond. “Was due ta bad intel and a lack of _proper_ leadership durin’ my absence.”

“’Absence’?” One of Starscream’s brows quirked. “Where have you been?”

“Stuck in a Quintesson life-support pod,” he replied bluntly, which caused Starscream to recoil briefly. 

“I find that hard to believe,” the seeker sneered. “This long…and you’re in _that_ good of shape?”

Ah, not surprising Starscream would have trouble believing that, considering the Quintesson’s reputation. “My body was degraded past the point of repair when I was found.” Ebonscream explained, leaning back. “My spark had ta be transferred ta a blank protoform. I can provide a memory photo of what my previous body looked like if ya need proof.”

Stasrcream’s wings were twitching as the mech scratched his chain, a look of consideration on his face. “Alright, I’ll bite,” he stated, folding his arms. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if…holy Primus!” The seeker’s optics went wide.

“Huh…I haven’t sent anythin’ ta ya yet….,” Ebonscream admitted, confused

“I sent him a data packet with a few photos the moment he agreed,” Wheeljack revealed. “One of you in the pod…a few ‘before and after’ the spark transfer.”

“I suppose ya would have had the better ‘view’ of my physical state….,” he sighed.

“Alright, I question even _more_ how the frag you are still alive!” Starscream demanded once the obvious shock had worn off.

“I’m apparently an outliner,” Ebonscream stated with a shrug. “What my ‘ability’ is, however, is not certain.”

“Probably something I’d like to have…like immortality or something.” He caught Starscream mumbling before speaking directly to hm once more. “How convenient you have an explanation for everything….”

“Ya seem very disinclined ta believe anythin’ at face value,” Ebonscream pointed out.

“That’s what life under Megatron’s _fist_ does to someone,” the seeker growled, his hands at his sides, clenched into fists.

Ebonscream looked over at Soundwave, who nodded in confirmation at what Starscream was implying. He frowned with disgust, adding that to the list of Megatron’s faults. He felt the need to comfort the mech, but he got the impression that Starscream did not want to be _pitied_. Instead, he decided to see if Starscream was willing to share his experiences.

“I am currently seeking out firsthand experiences of the Great War and what lead up ta it,” he revealed. “Are ya comfortable with tellin’ me of your own?”

“What, Wreckers can’t find any history books in those dirt holes they like to hide in?” Starscream remarked snidely. Ebonscream heard his mate start to bristle, prompting him to raise a hand to keep him from remarking, while pushing ‘calm’ through their bond.

“History books only show _one_ perspective,” Ebonscream told him. “A perspective that is _biase_ d toward the winners. Hearin’ the story from _both_ sides, provides a fuller, more _truthful,_ picture.”

Starscream was making a thoughtful noise. “And if someone just lies through their denta about their experience?”

“Any smart researcher would know ta weigh its validity against other evidence.”

Starscream was silent, his optics moving subtly, lips pressed thin. “Very well, then,” he announced, his arms once more folded across his chest, but his frame slightly more relaxed. The seeker then went into his account…which was definitely in a more _colorful_ manner than Soundwave’s. Admittedly he did not get much in the way of new information, aside from the destruction of Vos: that, he could tell, still weighed heavily on Starscream’s spark. 

“Thank you, Starscream,” Ebonscream told him once he was done. “I appreciate your time.”

“Who else are you going to bug about this?” Starscream asked curiously.

“Optimus and Prowl. He was the one we were hopin’ ta talk ta first, but…apparently there was an _incident_ involving a pair of twins they had ta deal with.”

“Ah, right… _those_ two idiots,” the seeker grumbled. “At least Knock Out was _smart_ enough to do his _street racing_ outside of human city limits!”

“Oh…Primus….” He heard Wheeljack facepalm.

He could see how something like that could rile up their human liaison. The potential casualties and property damage if things went wrong? He didn’t want to think about it….

“So, after you are done playing catchup…,” Starscream remarked, catching his attention. “What are your plans?”

“Assist in Team Prime’s plan ta continue rescuing slaves, includin’ your missin’ trinemate.” Starscream flinched at that, but there was a look of gratefulness. 

“Then I’ll go see if Optimus is done lecturing a certain pair of Lamborghini twins to help speed you along….” Starscream then turned and left. Wheeljack, Ebonscream noted, was a bit slack jawed.

“OK…that wasn’t as bad as I thought....” he finally remarked.

“Admittedly it was not as…’fiery’…as I was expecting,” Soundwave commented. “Still, amusing.”

“Told ya I could handle him,” Ebonscream chided as they continued into the mess hall, Soundwave taking his leave at that point.

The place was simply a large room with rows of tables and benches with energon dispensers lined along the far wall. There were smaller doors along one wall which looked like it could open up to accommodate a Cybertronian if need be. Considering he saw an occasional human pass through those doors, he assumed their mess hall was on the other side.

There were a few other Cybertronians in the mess hall at present. There was a group of three bots of various grounder vehicle types sitting together at one table, with a couple others standing around at the energon dispensers. The group at the table, he noted, were staring at him. Hopefully, that was all they did.

They chose a table directly opposite from the group of three. The benches made it difficult for him to reach the table in the hoverchair, so, with a little assistance from Wheeljack, transferred himself to the bench. He watched as his mate moved the hoverchair so it wasn’t in the way before heading for the energon dispensers. 

There, he saw Wheeljack strike up a conversation with a blue, black and silver bike frame femme with pink accents. Someone he worked with before, he guessed. He casually observed their conversation, noticing the femme looked a bit shocked when Wheeljack gestured his way. Ebonscream chuckled, having a good idea what his mate just told her.

He was then distracted by a ‘presence’ right behind him, the sensors in his wings having picked up a subtle change in air movement. Before he could look over his shoulder to see who it might be, the tactical sensors on his right primary activated, sending an unpleasant chill down his strut. Shadows of old trauma wisped up in his processor, activating his ‘fight or flight’ protocols. 

“Do not _touch_ me,” he growled warningly as his frame tensed. His warning was met with only a childish giggle, followed by a touch on his other wing.

Ebonscream hissed, did some quick calculations based on the voice, then snapped his primary wings together. He felt the satisfying, though slightly painful, sensation of someone’s head getting smacked between them. A shriek of pain and shock followed as the offending bot staggered away, then a crash as the bot apparently tripped over the bench of the table behind him.

“Hey!” Someone called out from the table where the three bots had been sitting.

“Hey yourself!” the femme Wheeljack had been talking to spoke up. “The three of you should know better than to touch another bot without permission… _especially_ a seeker’s wings!”

“Your friend is lucky that is all he did,” Wheeljack spoke next, sounding like he was approaching. “He’ll kick your aft even with a bad arm and missing leg.”

“A slight exaggeration, Jackie,” Ebonscream commented, pulling his saber out and inspecting its edge. Then proceeded to twirl it in his hand effortlessly for a moment before sheathing it again. _Yep, still got it._

There was a brief moment of silence before the one that protested finally muttered an apology. Ebonscream glanced back enough to watch them collect their still stunned friend and leave the mess hall.

“I must admit,” the femme was remarking as both she and Wheeljack joined him at the table. “I’ve never seen a seeker even _think_ about using their wings as blunt instruments.”

“Wings are just another type of limb,” Ebonscream remarked as he accepted the cube Wheeljack got for him. “Ta not make use of them in combat needlessly limits your combat options.”

“Good for surprise attacks at least,” the femme remarked with an amused smirk. “Arcee, by the way.”

“A pleasure. Member of Team Prime, I presume?” Ebonscream felt Wheeljack behind him, checking his wings for damage he guessed. He gave his mate a ‘playful’ smack with one of them. Wheeljack got the hint and sat down beside him.

“I served as their scout and close combat specialist during the war,” Arcee confirmed, then added with a sigh. “I _should_ still be on Cybertron, helping with the rescue efforts, but….”

Ebonscream nodded with understanding as he took a sip of energon: the suspicion of being watched carefully made that effort difficult, if not impossible. “We will continue your efforts the best we can,” he promised.

“But can Wreckers be _subtle_ and _stealthy_?” Arcee had a slightly teasing smirk. “My time working with Bulkhead and Wheeljack suggest otherwise….” He heard Wheeljack scoff in response.

Ebonscream chuckled with amusement. “Ya never met _Eclipse_ ,” he remarked with a smirk. “She’s our scoutin’ and stealth expert.”

“Really?” Arcee looked intrigued. “Perhaps we should meet and compare notes. So not all of you are the ‘go in and blow things up’?”

“Not at all,” Ebonscream explained. “In the past, I trained my Wrecker’s ta make full use of their individual strengths, while also trainin’ them ta work with others that would cover their weaknesses.”

“Like a sniper using a spotter to not only look for targets, but to watch their back.”

“Exactly.”

“So you were responsible for training all these crazy bots?” Arcee looked impressed.

“I was…and I intend ta do so again.”

“Just curious, but who was the hardest to train?”

That was an easy one to answer. “Whirl.” From the widening of the femme’s optics, she’s definitely heard of him. 

Before the conversation could continue, however, he felt a new presence enter the room. A commanding, yet warm…almost _fatherly_ aura. He turned to see a red, white and blue convoy frame approaching. Imposing, but welcoming. Wisdom born of both time and experience etched upon a weary yet stoic face. There was only one bot this could be….

“Hey, Prime,” Wheeljack greeted warmly. “’Bout time ya showed up. Twins did something that bad, eh?”

At this, Optimus facepalmed and sighed heavily. “I had to repeat my reprimand twice,” he remarked. “They both kept falling asleep.”

“I keep telling you, Optimus,” Arcee sighed. “Lectures don’t work on those two.”

“I’m starting to see that. Regardless, I apologize for the delay.” The Prime then looked at him, blue optics studying him, but not in a judgmental way. “Ebonscream, I presume?”

“Correct,” Ebonscream acknowledged, inclining his head briefly in respect. “It is an honor ta meet ya. Do ya prefer ta be called ‘Optimus’ or ‘Prime’?”

“Whichever one you are more comfortable with,” Optimus replied with a smile. “I heard you already spoke with Soundwave?”

“I have, though I still have questions…not ta mention I prefer to hear things from more than one viewpoint if possible.”

“A reasonable position to have.” The Prime then gestured toward the door. “Shall we take a…uh…walk?” Optimus looked slightly embarrassed and awkward when he remembered he was missing a leg. “My apologies, that was a poor choice of words.”

“It is alright,” Ebonscream assured him, before he nodded for Wheeljack to fetch the hoverchair.

“Imma gonna go check to see how far the medics have gotten with reparin’ your leg,” Wheeljack told him after helping him into it. There was an odd tension in his mate’s frame.

“Ya sure? Ya seem a bit…apprehensive?”

“Ah, I’m just worried about how much they’ll actually be able to fix,” Wheeljack stated. “Never know what other problems they may find, ya know?” There was a hint of defensiveness in his tone and Ebonscream just caught a flash of a concerned look toward the Prime. Optimus, he noted, had nodded ever so slightly, the faintest of concerned frowns on his face. An unspoken agreement? On what?

“I’ll catch up with ya after I’m done,” Wheeljack informed him before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. As his mate ran off, he glanced toward Arcee questioningly: the femme looked genuinely confused as she shrugged.

His tank was telling him this was about at least one of those ‘things’ Wheeljack and the others had been keeping from him. 

“I don’t like it when things are kept from me…,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he followed the Prime outside. 

The Prime was looking down at him with sympathy. “Some knowledge is best not shared until it is verified,” he remarked. “Lest it causes misunderstandings and wrongful judgment.”

Point. Wheeljack did tell him before he had some speculation he wanted to have confirmed while they were here. Not knowing even a _hint_ of what it was about, however, was driving him nuts. Hopefully, he only had to wait a bit longer to find out what it was.

For now, he should focus on this history discussion with Optimus….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arcee = TFP Version, not much else to say about that.
> 
> And yes, I purposely made Starscream G1 colored to further differentiate him from my 'Astral Aligned' Screamer.


	18. Sensitive Topics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confirmation

Ratchet frowned at the results, not liking the implications of what he was seeing. It was a match but….

“What’s wrong?” Hammercircuit was asking, the Wrecker medic looking up from working on Ebonscream’s leg.

“I have the CNA test results,” the senior medic replied, handing him the datapad. He gave him a moment to analyze its contents before asking. “What do you see?”

“A high probably our assumption is correct,” Hammercircuit muttered, his brows furrowed. “But the segments that do not match either of them seem…odd. I would say that was due to some degradation of the sample you had before you were able to properly store it digitally…but I’m not sure.”

“The degradation in the sample is consistent with what we’ve seen in the CNA of the vehicon clone troops we used in the war,” Hook pointed out. “Particularly in the early versions before Shockwave had ‘perfected’ the cloning process.”

“It is also consistent with early tests of genetic modification on an already living individual,” Ratchet added grimly. “Either possibility can explain why Nightfire’s condition was the way it was. However, which possibility is the ‘truth’…I fear there is no way of knowing for sure. At least, not without breaking into more labs…which I wouldn’t recommend.”

Hammercircuit was looking down at the pad, a disturbed expression on his face. “So, you’re saying there’s a roughly fifty percent chance there’s more ‘Nightfires’ hidden in some lab…perhaps even the ‘original’?” Ratchet nodded grimly, Hook doing so with him. His old colleague was staring back down at the pad once more, looking to be in deep thought.

“What are you going to tell them?” Ratchet asked softly. He knew those two far better than he did….

Hammercircuit was quiet for a few moments before he responded. “If we told them there was even a ‘chance’ there was a ‘living’ Nightfire out there…they will never rest until they found out for sure,” he announced. “They both need closure…so they can focus fully on the present…and the future….” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll contact Jackie, let him know the results are ready.”

Ratchet nodded, understanding his logic. If there were any ‘others’ out there, chances were even slimmer they would be alive…and would only serve to prolong the cycle of grief for those two….

\--

Wheeljack ran back toward the clinic as fast as he could, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. The latter being the reason he didn’t just use his alt-mode to get there even faster. What if it wasn’t a match? That would mean they would both have that uncertainty hanging over their head for the foreseeable future. Sure, the chances of their creation still being alive was practically nil, but just…not knowing for sure…the…what if….

He skidded to a stop in front of the clinic, that fear nearly making him hesitant about actually going in. Perhaps not knowing was better than hearing confirmation he hadn’t been their creation. No, he told Ebonscream he was getting said confirmation, to not go through with it would be a breach of trust with him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm his nerves before heading in.

Both Hammercircuit and Ratchet were looking over Ebonscream’s leg, doing final checks it looked like. It certainly looked more ‘normal’ than it had before. They both looked his way as he approached. “We-well?” he asked nervously.

“It’s been confirmed,” Hammercircuit states simply, handing him a datapad.

Wheeljack looked at it, his hands trembling slightly. He didn’t understand most of the medical jargon on it, but the part that stood out the most, he did. “Ya said it’s been confirmed, but this says it’s only an eighty-three percent match….,” he pointed out. “I don’t know nothin’ about genetics and all that scrap, but that doesn’t a parentage test require it to be above ninety percent to be considered ‘confirmation’?”

“Normally, yes, but Nightfire was a…special case,” Hammercircuit explained. “We found indicators he was genetically modified post-natal….”

The pad slipped from his hands. The first question he wanted to ask was ‘why’, but since when did Quintesson needed a _reason_ to do what they did aside that they _wanted_ to? “Those…bastards…,” he choked out, his voice a mix of rage and grief. Primus…Ebonscream was going to wish he had been awake during the Wrath War now: if there was anything to provoke his mate to go into a killing spree….

“I’ve started putting together the documentation I have on Nightfire,” Ratchet informed him. “I’ve pinged Soundwave requesting the same on his end.”

“To be honest…I have no idea how he will react to all this…,” Wheeljack confessed. “I only know part of the story and…I’m not sure I want to know all of it myself….” He went out like a true Wrecker…that’s what stuck out in his mind.

“We are just making the information easily available in case he…and you…want to know all the details,” Ratchet assured him.

Wheeljack nodded, grateful. “I’ll…need a few to figure out how to break this to him,” he muttered, sighing. “’Sides…I’d rather not interrupt his talk with the Prime before he got everythin’ he needed from him.“ After they had both nodded with agreement he asked. “How’s the repairs on the leg comin’ along?”

“All deformations and breaks in the sensor net and wiring have been addressed,” Ratchet announced. “We are currently attempting to fix the deformation in the joint itself.”

“That will take multiple passes,” Hammercircuit warned. “As warned before, correcting it so it moves completely normally may very well be impossible. So our aim is to ensure it moves smoothly.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just replace the whole leg?” Wheeljack asked.

“Not since his hip also showed signs of issues,” Hammercircuit pointed out. “We may be able to ‘cheat’ like that with his arm, but from what Ratchet told me, that may be awhile.”

“What we can manufacture here is limited for the time being,” Ratchet elaborated. “On top of that, take into consideration the condition of this protoform was in…the supply on Cybertron may be of questionable quality.”

They had a point: they had to do what they could with what they had. Granted, that was more than what they could do way back when, but still…it meant Ebonscream won’t be close to full combat readiness for longer than he’d liked. Thankfully, Ebonscream’s mind was just as, if not more so, important than his combat skill.

He thanked them, then decided to explore the base a bit and catch up with a few old friends. Jazz was still Jazz, but Ironhide…oof…he was having a rough time over Crosshairs. All he could do was assure him that Crosshairs would be found, like they did with Ebonscream. It seemed to help a little….

After about an hour has passed, Wheeljack decided to it was time to catch up with Ebonscream and Optimus. He found them near the communications building and noted Prowl had joined them. Ebonscream and the Autobot Intelligence Officer were in a deep conversation on tactics and strategy, Optimus was merely listening in with interest.

//Was it confirmed?\\\ Optimus asked him over private comms.

//Yes…,\\\ Wheeljack replied in kind, not hiding the sorrow and disgust he felt in his tone. //The Doc said he and Soundwave are putting information together about him. I’m still workin’ out how to tell Ebony, however….\\\

//A delicate matter, for sure….,\\\ Optimus confirmed. //Perhaps it is a burden you should not bare alone.\\\

He was about to ask what he meant when a statement from Prowl caught his full attention.

“While I question some of your methods,” Prowl was saying. “It is clear the Wreckers would have not fallen as far as they did if you had still been among them.”

“Ya state that as if we were solely ta blame for our degradation in unit cohesion,” Ebonscream countered with a faint growl

Ut oh. Wheeljack could already tell where this was going to go….

Prowl’s optics were narrowing. “Are you implying we bare some blame?”

“First,” Ebonscream elaborated with a raised finger. “Ya put someone like _Magnus_ in charge, a mech, from what I understand, is the _absolute worse_ match for the Wreckers.”

“They were in sore need of _discipline_!” Prowl countered stiffly.

“But _his_ style of ‘discipline’ was _not_ what they needed!” Ebonscream snarled, leaning forward in the hoverchair, his wings slightly flared. “Magnus lacks the _flexibility,_ at the very least, that is required ta lead us. He also completely disregarded our stance of ‘protect the little bot’ and cared more about accomplishin’ the mission rather than the lives of those evolved.”

“Casualties are an unfortunate part of _war_ ,” Prowl retorted hotly. “You surely know that!”

“That I do, but any _respectable_ Commander would do everythin’ they can ta _minimize_ said causalities,” Ebonscream stated. Beside him, Wheeljack noted Optimus was nodding in agreement.

“Casualties can only be minimized so far without needlessly compromising the mission itself,” Prowl was saying with a shake of his head, arms folded across his chest.

“While true, it helps if all parties involved in the plannin’ process do their part. Which leads me ta my other point,” Ebonscream stated. “Did ya even bother ta _verify_ the intel ya were gatherin’?”

Prowl stiffened, his optics widening. “Of course we did!” he replied, looking offended.

“Are ya absolutely sure?” Ebonscream pressed. “Considerin’ ya had not one, but _two_ confirmed Sirens in your ranks!? If ya don’t remember…Sirens and Wreckers were at _war._ Thus it is only _logical_ ta assume they would fudge some details on the reports ta harm us.”

Wheeljack thoroughly _enjoyed_ the view of Prowl looking shaken, even a bit pale, but it didn’t take long for the Intelligence Officer to pull himself together. “We had no way of knowing that at the time,” Prowl stated defensively.

“Ya prided yaself on thinkin’ of all possibilities,” Ebonscream chided, his tone taunting as he rested his head on his hand. “But ya didn’t consider the possibility of infiltrators inside your own ranks? Pathetic.”

Ouch. Prowl looked like he was about to blow a fuse, but then took a deep breath and sigh. “You’re right,” he conceded, his door wings door wings drooping slightly. “Flashwing in particular…I should have known better.” 

Wait…had that been a flash of recognition in his mate’s optics? He hadn’t spoken to him about him yet and he was certain Kup hadn’t.

“Starscream and a couple of others,” Prowl was continuing. “Warned me he was not one that could be reformed, but I had thought I had taken every precaution with him.”

No, Flashwing _was_ able to change, Wheeljack had seen that himself….

“If it hadn’t been for Soundwave feeding us intel on his attempt to make a deal with them, no doubt in an attempt to demoralize us, Flashwing would have completely fooled us,” Prowl was saying bitterly. “Flatwheel, however…had hit us completely out of left field: there had been no indication in his history he could have been a Siren. They both worked as interrogators…so they easily could have ‘fudged the reports’….”

“Those two likely worked tagether ta damage us,” Ebonscream agreed.

Wheeljack wasn’t sure that was the case. While he hadn’t overheard all of the ‘debate’ between those two, he had gotten the feeling Flashwing had only just learned Flatwheel had been a Siren. Something he’ll have to confirm with Flashwing next time he got the chance.

“Unfortunately, we cannot change the past,” Prowl was lamenting.

“No…but things in the present can be _dealt_ with,” Ebonscream remarked. “Magnus.” He looked toward Optimus. “From what I understand, it is unknown if he supports your efforts ta free slaves.”

Optimus had sighed deeply, his optics briefly closing. “We…disagreed on how to address the injustice,” he replied after a moment. “He wanted to rely on the legal system to make changes.”

“A system that we feared at the time, and have since confirmed, was fully corrupted by Sentinel,” Prowl added. “He could not be convinced of this and so we felt we had little choice but to leave him out of the loop.”

Ebonscream was making a thoughtful noise as he rubbed his chin. “So it’s not so much he is _for_ Sentinel’s methods, but he is too _reliant_ on the system ta properly challenge injustice within it.” Optimus and Prowl were both nodding. “A reliance that _impedes_ us so long as he is in charge.”

“We been doin’ what we can under his nose,” Wheeljack put in. “But it’s only a matter of time before Mister Rule book uses said corrupt system to force us to ‘heel’. We need him gone.”

“Completely removing him from power in the Wreckers may not be the right answer, Jackie,” Ebonscream cautioned, shaking his head. “Ta suddenly cut him off may result in a worse outcome than the current status quo: he may go ta the Enforcers ta request aid in ‘reelin’ us in’ before we caused any ‘damage’, for example.”

“Ah frag…you’re right…I can see him doin’ that,” Wheeljack grumbled, facepalming. “And once those bastards got their claws on us, they’ll likely use anythin’ they can think of to keep us under their heel.”

“Talking to him first may be the best option,” Optimus suggested. “We knew how he felt when this started, there’s a chance his opinion may have changed.”

Wheeljack snorted and rolled his optics. “From my more recent experiences with him, Prime, I doubt it,” he grumbled. “He was willin’ to leave Ebony to rot in that lab, for instance, ‘cause it was against the ‘law’ and based on what he considered ‘questionable intel’.” Optimus was recoiling in shock.

“But that may be an angle we can use against him,” Ebonscream remarked. “Ta get him ta see that the law is not infallible. I’ll have ta think about how ta approach him after we are done here….”

“In the event he refuses to change his stance, I can prepare an emergency order relieving him of duty in the Wreckers,” Optimus offered with a bit of reservation in his tone. “As a last resort.”

“And if he does run to Sentinel, at least we’ll know what to _expect_ from him,” Wheeljack remarked.

“Still, let’s hope it doesn’t come ta that,” Ebonscream stated with a sigh. “Havin’ him on our side would be more beneficial than not.” Wheeljack had to agree with him on that, as did Prowl and Optimus, if their nodding was any indication.

“I’ll ensure I’ll have that order ready for you before you return to Cybertron,” Optimus declared. “In the meantime….” Optimus was looking down at him.

Wheeljack looked back at him, a brow raised in confusion. The Prime then briefly inclined his head toward Ebonscream. He looked at his mate, whom had a questioning expression on his face, then back up at the Prime.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” the Prime told him.

What was he…Oh…OH!

_Prime…you slagger…._ Wheeljack rubbed his face and sighed with exasperation.

“Jackie…what is goin’ on?” Ebonscream was asking.

Wheeljack took a moment to collect his thoughts, think of the best way to start what was no doubt going to become a very emotional discussion. “Do ya remember when I told ya I had somethin’ to confirm before tellin’ ya about it?” Ebonscream was nodding, looking concerned. “It’s…about Nightfire….”

Ebonscream immediately stiffened, various emotions flickering across his face. “Yes?” he prompted; his voice small.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “There was a ‘Nightfire’ that had escaped the Quintesson’s labs…and helped us break through their lies and drive them off the planet. We…just confirmed that he was…indeed…our creation.”

His mate looked…shocked, his optics wide. “’Was’…,” he whispered. “Does that mean….?” He was trembling.

Wheeljack crushed his optics closed as he nodded his head, hating having to confirm this as well. “He’s dead, Ebony….” He looked at is mate as he reached over and gripped his hand. “Though he never knew who we were and what we stood for…he still died like any Wrecker would: he sacrificed himself to destroy a superweapon the Quintessons were going to use on the planet….”

Ebonscream was quiet, his head lowered as tears rimmed his optics. Wheeljack could feel the mix of emotions across their bond. Sorrow, anger and a hint of pride. After a moment, he looked up at Optimus. “I want ta know everythin’ about him…,” he declared. “Everythin’ ya can tell me…”

Optimus had merely nodded and gestured toward the Communications building. He and Ebonscream followed the Prime in silence. Wheeljack was still unsure if he wanted to know, but he wasn’t about to leave his mate’s side. Not for this.

Soundwave was already in the meeting room when they entered. “Ratchet has been notified,” he informed them. “He will arrive shortly.”

“Thank you, Soundwave,” Optimus told him, before turning toward them. “Back in those times, I was a simple data clerk with the task of archiving knowledge. Nightfire was brought in by a young helo frame named Airfix: they were seeking any information we had on Nightfire’s origins. Unfortunately, to the Hall of Records, he didn’t exist, which we rectified that day.” The Prime paused a moment before continuing. “Even from that brief encounter, I could tell he was…unstable. Airfix had to calm him when he nearly went into a random bout of rage.”

“Those bouts of rage were caused by those squids tampering with his spark,” Ratchet stated as he walked in. “The genetic modification they performed on him didn’t help.”

“Nor the various ‘tests’ he was subjected to,” Soundwave added. “He informed us of many during his testimony before the High Council.”

Wheeljack remembered hearing bits and pieces of that testimony but hadn’t been able to focus fully on it at the time. No, Sentinel had them getting ready to perform ‘Operation T-Cog’ in a bid to prove the Quintessons were lying about giving them the ability to transform. Between that and Nightfire’s testimony, the Quintesson’s web of lies and deceit had been unraveled.

“Unfortunately,” Ratchet spoke up once more. “Due to all of that…Nightfire’s expected lifespan had been drastically reduced.” The old medic sighed. “Even if he hadn’t sacrificed himself to end the war…it was unlikely he would have lived through the Golden Age.”

Meaning Ebonscream still would not have meet their child. If Nightfire had been more stable in both spark and mind…would his influence have been able to prevent the last war? Prevent Sentinel from becoming a corrupt bastard? No way of knowing that now….

Wheeljack looked at his mate. Ebonscream had his head low, optics closed, the seams lined with tears. Wings were also down. He reached around his mate’s shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze. Ebonscream leaned against him, quietly sobbing into his shoulder.

“I…wish we had better news for you regarding his fate,” Ratchet spoke softly. “No creator should outlive their creation….” Beside the medic, both Optimus and Soundwave were nodding in solemn agreement. “Here’s all the medical information I have on him.” Ratchet handed him a datapad.

“And this, contains all other information, including his full testimony before the Council,” Soundwave added, also handing him a datapad. “You do not need to read them now….”

Wheeljack was about to put the pads in his subspace, but Ebonscream had snatched them both from his hands. His mate started flipping through their contents rapidly. “Ebony?” he queried.

“I…I am lookin’ for a picture of him…,” his mat whined. “I want ta see what he looked like…grown up…..”

“Ah, allow me…,” Soundwave stated, and they watched as he jacked into the meeting table. After a moment, a 3D hologram appeared from a projector in the center of the table.

The figure the hologram depicted looked like he would have stood nearly as tall as Ebonscream. Perhaps as tall as him if he wasn’t slightly hunched over. Ah, he inherited his audio fins, though they were smaller and more rounded. The rest of him was broad shouldered and strong jawed, had large hands and feet, wide angular wings, and wheel placement matching his own. Yes…this mech had definitely been a triple-changer.

Coloration…black and dark grey with red accents, but Wheeljack could see silver streaks here and there on Nightfire’s frame. Scars…or signs of that genetic modification? Could be both. Had his color optics, but Ebonscream’s ‘fuzzy’ style.

“Ya grew into such a handsome mech…,” Ebonscream was muttering softly, a hint of a smile on his face as tears flowed down his cheeks. “And thank Primus…ya didn’t inherit your Sire’s headcrest….”

“Pffft….” Wheeljack rolled his optics. “It’s good for headbuttin’ idiots….”

“But it makes it Primus damned hard ta kiss ya!” Ebonscream countered.

“It just proves how much ya love me when ya succeed!” Wheeljack boasted, head high as he folded his arms. It hadn’t been the first time his love had gripped about his headcrest and it made him happy that Ebonscream, even for a brief moment, forgot about his grief.

And brief it was. Ebonscream had simply snorted in response before starting to stare at the hologram of their creation. Wheeljack had started doing the same, his mind starting to wander. Imagining the different ways things could have been different. Tears finally rimmed his own optics, each tear falling feeling like a lost opportunity for a cherished family memory….

He yelped when someone touched his shoulder. It was Soundwave and he told them the medics were done with Ebonscream’s leg. Primus…neither of them had noticed they had been left alone in the room. How long had they been in here staring at Nightfire’s image? Did it matter? Soundwave gave them a copy of the hologram, Wheeljack thanking him for it before they headed back to the clinic.

The medics did some work on Ebonscream’s right hip before reattaching his leg, Ebonscream focusing on one of the datapads they were given during the procedure. He only stopped reading it when he was directed to try walking. Wheeljack felt relieved that, while there was a heavy limp, Ebonscream was able to walk without pain. He encouraged his mate to keep practicing walking while Ratchet and Hammercircuit discussed further treatment, the senior medic handing his colleague a few advanced tools that would aid Hammercircuit in continuing what they started.

After that, it was time to go back to Cybertron. They gave their thanks and farewells, Optimus providing Ebonscream with a datapad containing the emergency dismissal order as promised. Hopefully, they won’t have to use it, but Wheeljack had a feeling Ultra Magnus would be as stubborn as ever.

Of more immediate importance was giving themselves time to grieve for Nighfire. The rest of the Wrecker’s will need to know about this as well. That, Wheeljack realized, may complicate matters when it came to Flashwing. It was uncertain already how Ebonscream would react…

…and adding to that uncertainty was that, somehow, Ebonscream already knew about Flashwing’s existence….


	19. Past Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ebonscream reflects on the past....

_Ebonscream was jolted awake when something landed heavily into his cell. He just caught sight of his captors shutting the door before his optics landed upon a familiar small, silver form._

_“Starsong!” he cried, moving to their side. The bike frame was badly charred, and they were gasping for breath. Carefully he cradled them into his arms. “What did they do ta ya this time?”_

_He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Every few days, they would take Starsong away for tests…experiments. The Siren was always brought back battered and beaten. Today it looked particularly bad._

_“They…,” Starsong spoke hoarsely. “Had me repeatedly testing one of their new traps….” They coughed a few times. “Floor tile trap…pressure activated…doesn’t seem to work so well…when more than one tile is activated at once….”_

_A flaw he could potentially exploit if he encountered it during an escape attempt. Not that he could risk doing so right now…not with his belly growing with sparkling. It had been a miracle he hadn’t lost the newspark when they were captured…._

_Ebonscream remembered feeling conflicted about that, especially once the Quintessons had discovered he was carrying. On the one hand, they didn’t touch him aside from standard exams to check both his health and the sparkling’s, giving him time to think…to plan…an escape. Buying time for Wheeljack and others to find them. However, Starsong was suffering in the meantime…a suffering both he and the sparkling would join them in experiencing if rescue never came…or if he failed to get them out of there himself._

_“I…I think they overdid it this time…,” Starsong was muttering weakly. “I…I don’t think I’ll-“ They were interrupted by a wheezing cough._

_“Don’t talk like that,” Ebonscream told them. “Just rest…save your strength. And for Primus sake, don’t give most of your rations ta me this time!”_

_“You are eating for two…,” Starsong insisted._

_“And ya don’t think they know I require more?” Ebonscream countered. “Haven’t ya noticed they give me more?”_

_“Still…not enough for growing bitlit….”_

_Ebonscream groaned and rolled his optics but didn’t argue further. Starsong, with her position as herbalist in the Sirens, did know a bit more about medicine than he did._

_“Ebony…,” they whispered. “There’s…something I need to tell you….”_

_“It can wait. Rest.”_

_“No…it can’t…” A painful sounding cough. “Do you remember…sparkling raid?”_

_“Of course I do…that was the day I nearly lost Jackie….” Ebonscream remembered how much he paced, waiting for Wheeljack to wake up from the coma he had been put in from the blow to the head Steelstone had given him._

_“Sparkling you failed to get…was Stormburst’s creation….”_

_Oh Primus…no wonder that Overseer had fought so hard! Was so willing to try to kill him! But if Starsong knew this…why didn’t they tell them that sparkling should be off limits? They were only supposed to grab the ones the Siren’s had kidnapped…._

_“Flashwing…his name is Flashwing…,” Starsong was continuing. “He has not been treated kindly since his carrier’s death….”_

_“What…why?” Why would they abuse an innocent child?_

_“Stormburst was obsessed…with making sure his child was happy…,” Starsong explained. “It was his idea to kidnap other sparklings…so he would have playmates. Steelstone…blamed Flashwing for making his mate ‘lose his mind’…and refused to care for him.” They paused a moment to catch their breath. “Baron Tigercloud took over care…but there was accident…Flashwing slipped off edge of cliff…Tigercloud sacrificed his life to save him. After tha’…whole tribe considered him ill omen. He became…scapebot for…everything tha’ went wrong.”_

_That poor child. To be blamed for everything even though it wasn’t his fault. Ebonscream felt his spark ache…._

_“This treatment has hardened him…made him bitter,” Starsong informed him grimly. “All while still trying to prove his worth to them. I fear he may be very dangerous to you and rest of Wreckers…he hates you so much….”_

_“Why are ya telling me this now? There’s…no guarantee we’ll get out of here….” He didn’t like admitting that, but he had to be realistic…keep in mind all possibilities._

_“Because I could have told you about him lot sooner…,” Starsong confessed. “Directed you to try to get through to him…but didn’t…because, at firs’…I only saw….” They looked away. “Thing tha’ ultimately caused me to lose both you and Wheeljack due to my own pettiness….”_

_Ebonscream flinched and looked away. The love triangle that had formed between the three of them had been damaged due to Wheeljack’s near death during that raid. He had wrongly taken it out on Starsong afterward…kept their relationship strictly business for some time. Wheeljack had followed his lead and it had been only recently that he felt things were starting to rekindle between the three of them._

_“I’m sorry…,” he told them with a faint sigh. “It was wrong ta shun ya like we did after that….”_

_Starsong shook their head. “You were always telling me tha’ vengeance only causes more pain,” they countered. “It was…hard lesson to swallow…but swallow it…I eventually did. If only…I had done so sooner…perhaps if I hadn’t been so stubborn and left tribe long ago…this….” They gestured weakly. “Wouldn’t have happened…and…I could be part of your new family….”_

_“There’s still a chance ya can,” Ebonscream told her. “If we can escape…or be rescued….”_

_“For you two…perhaps….”_

_“Starsong….” No, they couldn’t be suggesting such a thing!_

_“Ebony…I can tell my body is at it’s limit…,” they remarked sadly. “I likely won’t last…night…”_

_“No….” To be left alone in this place, with the chance of escape or rescue so uncertain. The thought honestly terrified him. When he was a captive of the Sirens, he knew what to expect…and Sirens could somewhat be reasoned with. This lab…these Quintessons…without their ‘mask’ of ‘Galactic Benefactors’ on they were terrifying creatures in both mentally and appearance._

_“You’ll find way out….” Starsong told him, one hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. “And you….” They lowered his hand to his belly. “You be good for your carrier…alright? Make him proud….”_

_Ebonscream felt the newspark shift in response…._

~~

His optics slipped open, breathing a sigh as he put the memory file away and took a moment to reorient himself to the present. It was a bit disorienting to ‘relive’ memories like that, then to ‘wake up’ in the present again. Felt like mini ‘time jumps’ back and forth, but at least he had control over that. That big one he went through? He was still coming to terms with to an extent: he hated being reminded of how much time he had lost every time something he didn’t know about came up. Like this memory file thing. Frag, you could even share them between individuals now without needing a meld? Processor boggling, but…useful.

Ebonscream almost wished he hadn’t dug up this particular one, but it had to be done. Certain things Prowl had mentioned when he spoke with him a couple of days ago had been nagging at him. Flashwing…where had he heard that name before? Well, now he remembered…and with the recollection brought up more questions and concerning revelations.

Wheeljack had told him both living Sirens they knew about were former Spec Ops. Prowl had confirmed that, but the Autobot Intelligence Officer had also revealed Flashwing was one of those two. Yet…it was _Flatwheel_ Wheeljack was claiming to be the non-reformed one. Not to say it wasn’t possible for someone like Flashwing to change, but Starsong appeared to doubt he could.

Or, at the very least, change his view toward Wreckers….

It was…curious and a bit concerning on why Wheeljack didn’t just tell him Flashwing’s name straight off like he did Flatwheel. Was there something more behind Flashwing his mate wasn’t willing to tell him yet? That’s what his tank was telling him. He wasn’t sure if he should confront his mate about that or wait until Wheeljack was ready to tell him willingly. Perhaps a topic to talk to Rung about, next time he saw the therapist. Primus…did he have a lot to discuss with him….

He looked over at the nightstand and flipped on the holoprojector that was sitting upon it, activating the hologram of Nightfire they had been given. He knew it was pointless to do so, but he couldn’t help but wonder how his life could have been. Would Nightfire had stayed with them and become a Wrecker or find another role for himself? As a triple changer, he would have had a lot of options for occupations.

Ebonscream recalled what happened last night when they revealed Nightfire’s origins to the rest of the Wreckers. There was shock and sorrow, followed by a quiet moment of respectful mourning. What followed was a discussion on what Nightfire would have been like as a Wrecker. Naturally, there was some disagreement, which Whirl ‘helpfully’ ceased by declaring:

_“Only way to resolve this is if you two get busy and produce another Nightfire!”_ There were a few laughs, but most of it was short lived, as most of them understood it may be too soon for them to try for another child.

Too soon…or too _late_? Sure, his body was new, but both he and Wheeljack’s sparks were among the oldest still living. They may be too old to kindle again….

Just another thing on the list of things stolen from them if that was the case….

“Hey love,” Wheeljack called to him from the doorway. “It’s nearly mealtime, did ya want to join us?”

“When have I ever said no ta that, Jackie?” Ebonscream remarked with a smile, turning off the hologram before slipping off the berth. Ah, it felt good to be able to walk again, even if the gait was a bit undignified for the time being. While he wasn’t strictly bedridden anymore, he still mostly stayed in their room so he could read and research in peace. Thankfully, everyone still remembered that Ebonscream alone time meant, ‘Ebonscream is thinking, do not disturb’ time. He’d rather go out for walks like he used to, but that wasn’t very _feasible_ right now for a number of reasons.

“Have the medics finished with my arm yet?” he asked, remembering one of those reasons: the medics had taken it off that morning to do some work on it. Between the heavy limp and a missing arm, he would have stuck out like a rusted thumb out in public. Drawing attention to himself was the last thing they needed right now.

“Don’t know, but we can stop by there on the way,” his mate replied, approaching to offer a supportive shoulder for him, which he accepted. Pity Wheeljack wasn’t just a bit taller, he’d make a better crutch that way. Ah, who was he kidding? Wheeljack was the perfect height for…certain activities. His mate’s glossa skills….

“Anythin’ of significance ta report?” he asked to get his processor out of the gutter while they made their way to the medic’s makeshift medbay. Perhaps he could ask about being cleared for interfacing while they were there….

Ah scrap…in the gutter again.

“Still makin’ fixes to our communication network with the rest of the underground resistance,” Wheeljack replied causally. “Be easier if we can smooth things over with Magnus so we don’t have to move so often….” His mate then looked at him with a ‘certain’ smirk on his face. “Feelin’ a little charged up, love?”

“H-huh? No…why?” Ebonscream responded defensively, thanking Primus his dark coloration made it hard to others to see his blush.

“Hun…I’m at the _perfect_ height to _smell_ your arousal,” Wheeljack teased, his smirk a full grin. Then the sneaky aft groped his rear.

OK, that deep of a blush his dark coloration _can’t_ hide. Wheeljack was snickering at him, the cheeky slagger. “Well…ya can’t _blame_ me for being a bit…horny at times…,” he muttered. “It’s been _eons_.” Oh Primus…scary thought…how will his frame react when he next went into heat? Would it make up for ‘lost time’? Or be normal? Another question for the medics….

“Ah, right with ya there, love,” Wheeljack confessed softly. “Couldn’t bring myself to fool around. Only time I let myself get any action was when I went into heat…still felt wrong….”

“Ya know I would have understood…considerin’….” Ebonscream told him, saddened that his mate denied himself a basic necessity like that.

“I know, but it was my choice.”

Fair enough.

By that point they had reached the medbay. Thankfully, they had finished work on the arm for the day and reattached it. Like his right leg, his left elbow didn’t move perfectly just yet, but no more pain. A step closer to being able to start combat practice once more.

As for interfacing, they cleared him for tactical level and melding, but still no spike penetration, much to their disappointment. Their ‘excuse’ was that they didn’t want to risk their work on his hip being undone by any rough sex. They both rolled their optics at that.

In regards to his heat cycle, both medics confessed they had no idea would happen. “I would recommend for Wheeljack to work on building up his stamina, just in case,” Gearbolt had remarked.

“And how do I do that when ya won’t let us have penetration sex yet?” Wheeljack grumbled frustratingly.

“You’re both smart mechs…I’m sure you can figure out a way,” the medic countered cheekily before shooing them both out of the medbay.

“Bah…bet they will be bonin’ each other by the time we get to the refuel pit,” Wheeljack had grumbled enviously.

Ebonscream simply chuckled, though he did feel a little frustrated himself. He was certain they can ‘figure something out’ like Gearbolt had suggested. Perhaps after mealtime they can do so. For now, though, it was meal and story time.

_About an hour later…._

“Really, Jackie?” Ebonscream chided after his mate finished telling a story that occurred during the civil war. “Using the corpses of the fallen ta make a bridge across a smeltin’ pit?”

“It was either that or have so many holes blasted through me I’d look like I was attacked by a swarm of scraplets,” Wheeljack countered with a shrug. “It was a snap decision.”

“Well, I do have ta admit it was a creative-“

“Code Pillar!” someone cried. At once everyone stood up and started to move.

“No! We stay!” Ebonscream declared, causing everyone to freeze in their tracks.

“Wha…you sure, Ebony?” Kup asked, his arms already full.

“Snap decision,” Ebonscream replied with a smirk before turning serious. “Besides…I believe it’s time we stop avoidin’ this particular _problem_ and face it head on. So sit your afts back down and act normal. If I feel we still need ta move afterward, well, I hope ya all remember _my_ signal for retreat.”

“Of course we do, Ebs,” Bulkhead remarked with a smirk.

“I fix some enegron pops!” Whirl announced. “Ebony verses ‘Too serious face’…should be _epic_!”

Ebonscream could only hope he was really ready for this….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh...yeah...the chapter count total went up by two...darn plot scraplets! (including one concept I wish I had thought of sooner so I could integrate it more smoothly into the timeline...). 'Should' be the last time I add to this.


	20. Chain of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra Magnus finally tracks them down...but he wasn't expecting this at all.....

There was a system in place for a reason. Why didn’t they understand that? It frustrated Ultra Magnus to no end.

Rules, laws and regulations…all were designed to keep the peace, to keep _order_. To serve as guides when one didn’t know how to act. Or how _not_ to act. Those that refused to follow them were to be brought in and punished appropriately, for the sake of society.

Recently, he got word from a credible source that his wayward Wreckers had been going into places that were off limits. He should have expected that, considering his ‘relationship’ with Wheeljack and how angry Wheeljack had been at their last meeting. Wheeljack had _always_ done things to get under his plating, to rebel against his strict guidance. Now he has learned they may have pulled something out of one of those labs that was potentially very dangerous to Cybertron. 

The news had forced him to redouble his efforts to track them down, though he had turned down the Inquisitor’s offer of assistance. For now. This was his responsibility. Thankfully, the Wreckers that actually _listened_ to him, mostly rookies that joined during the war, were competent enough to track them down. Ultra Magnus never had them approach them themselves, however: he hadn’t wanted to risk them being ‘coerced’ into joining the rebellious Wreckers. No, that he handled himself.

Or would if Wheeljack and his followers didn’t keep bolting at the first sign of him. This game of ‘leech and scraplet’ had long grown tiring. Though, perhaps he is getting a break this time? The scout who had notified him of their current location, had a hopeful, if not guarded, expression on his face.

“Sir,” the scout greeted with a salute. “It doesn’t appear they have bugged out yet.”

“You got visual confirmation of this?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“I caught a couple of glimpses through the windows,” the scout replied. “Didn’t dare peeking in directly…I could _hear_ them, however. Sounded like they are in the middle of a powwow.”

Ugh…that. Those ‘meetings’ always devolved into rambunctious parties and full out brawls in his experience. For the sake preventing property damage and senseless trips to the medbay he had forbidden them. Not surprising in the least that Wheeljack would willfully ‘break’ that order.

Still, best get in there quickly. It was luck he was able to get this close without them disappearing and he didn’t like relying on luck. “Keep watch,” he told the scout before heading for the door.

An old office building this time, it looked like. Long abandoned and somewhat ruined by the war, but still a decent hideout. If there was one thing he had to give Wheeljack and his renegades, was that they knew how to pick defensible hiding places. Their major downfall was their numbers…and Jetfire: the shuttleformer gave away their location on more than one occasion due to his sheer size. 

However, it was unlike them to not have reacted to his presence by now. Ultra Magnus doubted they had grown complacent in their desire to keep away from him. Either they were tired of hiding, or something else was going on. The Inquisitor’s words of warning were ringing clear in his processor.

The rebel Wreckers weren’t far in: they were sitting in a circle in what used to be the building cafeteria. Sounded like Kup was telling a pre-war story…a very old one. Not that it mattered to him.

“I had implacably _forbidden_ these kinds of gatherings!” Ultra Magnus declared as he strode purposely toward them. He had expected them to scatter, but, no, they all stayed where they were. Staring at him with passive, unimpressed expressions.

“And give up a Wrecker tradition?” Ah, there was Wheeljack, as predicted. The swordmech had stood up and was approaching him. “Frag that.”

“Your ‘tradition’ caused needless casualties and property damage!” Ultra Magnus countered.

“Please, it ain’t a proper party unless someone gets a few plates dented!” someone boosted, prompting a few cheers.

Ultra Magnus scowled but didn’t remark on that. “But there are more serious issues that need to be addressed. Dereliction of duty. Insubordination. Desertion. Breaking and Entering…to name a few.”

“All done for good reason, Maggy,” Wheeljack retorted, his arms folded across his chest. “What needs to be done, can’t be done without bendin’…even _breakin’_ a few of those precious rules of yours.”

This argument again: he was already feeling a processor ache coming on. “If you feel the need to go against the law to get something done, you are not approaching it from the right angle. We’ve been over this, Wheeljack. You and the others will return with me to base and face dis-”

“No,” Wheeljack interrupted, his expression hardened. “We have a mission to do…and we will not be able to accomplish it by being _shackled_ by your ‘rules’.”

Mission. What mission? Did it involve what Optimus wanted to do? Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from the Prime in a while. Primus, this did not bode well. “You risk upsetting the stability of society,” he growled.

“This Pit-spawned ‘society’,” Wheeljack snarled, pointing a finger at him. “Needs-“

“Enough.”

The word was spoken so softly, Ultra Magnus barely heard it himself. Wheeljack, from how one audio fin twitched, had heard it loud and clear, if his sudden silence was any indication. The Wrecker then glanced behind him, toward the rest of the group. Magnus followed his gaze and spotted someone he hadn’t seen before.

His first initial thought was that this was a new recruit, but he had doubts. First off, since when would a _seeker_ join a group like the Wreckers? Second, all seekers were slaves, with many of them owned by Sentinel himself, from what he had heard. There were exceptions, of course, like the Aerial Bots, but this one didn’t match any of their descriptions.

Black and dark grey with silver accents and cherry red optics, no slave collar. This mech was just calmly sitting in a chair, partly surrounded by a few Wreckers. When Wheeljack’s and this seeker’s gaze met, the mech inclined his head to one side slightly. To Magnus’ shock, Wheeljack nodded, walked away and joined this mech at his side. What hold did this mech have over the stubborn Wrecker? Did his Wreckers somehow wind up in a cult? That would fit the ‘potentially dangerous to society’ warning he received….

This mech was staring at him now, those red optics moving almost imperceptibly. He was being studied, analyzed… _judged_. Who was this seeker? He checked his internal database once more: this seeker did not match any of the known ones on file. Now curious, Magnus stepped closer, the Wrecker’s around the mech immediately started to tense, plating bristling, Wheeljack starting to snarl. The black seeker then raised a hand, grabbing their attention, then flicked toward one side in a circular motion.

The surrounding Wrecker’s, save Wheeljack, immediately moved away and formed a loose circle around them. Wheeljack had stuck by this seeker’s side, his arms folded like a bodyguard. The seeker had looked at him with a hint of annoyance, but Wheeljack shook his head stubbornly.

Well, at least _that_ part was normal and nothing new to this odd seeker. A faint huff of a sigh was heard as the mech rolled his optics before those red optics were focused upon him again. Magnus took a couple more steps closer, triggering a threatening ‘don’t try it’ look on Wheeljack, but the seeker hadn’t even moved save for the lifting of his head to look at him in the optics.

“Do you have something to say, seeker?” Magnus asked as he stared back, his cyan optics scanning the mech for more details, more hints on who this seeker was. There were hints of deformities on his right thigh and left forearm, both barring scars of recent correction work, but aside from that, the seeker’s frame was pristine. There was detail he had missed before: the hilt of a familiar saber on his side.

Magnus flicked his gaze briefly toward Wheeljack, finding the sabers twin upon the Wrecker’s back like usual. But why give this seeker one of them? Something was nagging at him, the pieces of the puzzle starting to come together, but not enough to see what the picture was of.

Then the seeker finally spoke.

“I do. Who are ya?” he stated, his voice slightly thick with an Underworld accent. Not many spoke with that accent anymore: Wheeljack’s, for instance, only really came through when he was particularly annoyed or upset and even then, it wasn’t nearly as prominent. 

“I am Ultra Magnus,” he replied calmly. “Commander of the Wreckers.” This mech should have been able to safely assume that, considering the argument between him and Wheeljack moments before.

A smirk played on the seeker’s face. “Oh really?” he countered, his tone mocking. “It would seem they disagree.” The seeker swept a hand around the room.

“It matters not if they ‘disagree’,” Magnus countered himself. “I was appointed their commanding officer by the Prime himself.”

“Which one?” the seeker asked, crossing one leg over the other, while leaning over to rest his head on one hand. “Optimus? Or the corrupted despot who also claims the title?” The expression was teasing, as if the mech already knew the answer. Was he _testing_ him?

“Optimus,” he replied, humoring him for now. “In an attempt to bring discipline to their ranks and to lower their casualty numbers.”

“I understand the intent,” the mech was sighing. “And, from what I’ve heard, they had struggled in my absence.”

Absence. He was a Wrecker before? That was important information, one that triggered an important, recent memory. The last ‘official’ meeting between himself and Wheeljack…when Wheeljack told him they had intel about a fellow Wrecker trapped in a Quintession lab, supposedly alive. Magnus had declined to give him permission to go rescue him, on the grounds that, not only were those labs off limits for a _reason_ , but because he doubted the truthfulness of the intel. A Cybertronian, still alive in that place after all this time? Ludicrous. 

Wheeljack had left his office more torqued than usual, but Magnus had hoped he would see reason once he had calmed down. That didn’t turn out to be the case, if this current situation was any indication. Looking at this mech before him now…taking what he had just said and what he just remembered….

Ultra Magnus’ optics widened. No…it can’t be…

The seeker briefly smirked, apparently catching on to what he realized. Then that expression turned deadly serious as the mech reached a hand toward Wheeljack and the Wrecker wordlessly took it and helped the seeker to his feet. A bit unsteady, he noted: that right leg was definitely being favored as he took a couple of steps toward him.

“Ya look upon the face of the one ya were willin’ ta leave ta _rot_ in that lab,” the seeker declared, confirming his suspicions. Did the Inquisitor know about this mech? Or was he worried about something else? “I am Ebonscream, Tactician and Trainer for the Wreckers.” That was shocking as is, but what he said next put him back on his heels.

“And Wheeljack’s bondmate.” He and Wheeljack then looked at each other with a fondness that made the claim unquestionable.

That explained everything. Why Wheeljack was so angry…why he and the rest of the veterans deserted. “Why didn’t you just tell me who he was?” he asked Wheeljack.

“Would it have made a damn difference?” Wheeljack scowled, any softness in his face gone, replaced by a hateful bitterness. “Followin’ ‘procedure’ when I asked for permission to rescue him certainly didn’t….”

This made him feel very uncomfortable. He wanted to say ‘yes’, but that would be giving in to emotional impulse. Saying ‘no’, however…a quick glance around the room was all he needed to do to tell himself that he was in a potentially dangerous situation if this wasn’t handled carefully.

“There was another factor I didn’t get to inform you about that day,” he began. “The possibility the intel was bait to lure you and other Wreckers into a trap.”

“But isn’t that what ya been usin’ my Wrecker’s for ta begin with?” Ebonscream remarked, his tone tense. “As little more than a suicide squad?” The glare the seeker was giving him now would have withered a lesser mech.

“No, that was not the intent when they were recruited into the Autobot ranks…,” Magnus insisted.

“But that is ultimately what they _became_!” Ebonscream snapped, his wings now flared. “And _ya!_ ” He pointed at him. “Did _nothin’_ ta correct that! In fact, ya _ignored_ my Wrecker’s attempts ta _explain_ what we are _truly_ about!”

Ultra Magnus took an involuntary half-step back, taken off guard by the sheer force of the commanding tone the seeker spoke in. Same with the expression of near fury on his face. The seeker took a step closer as he asked.

“ _Do_ ya know what we are _supposed_ ta be about?” There was an almost devilish smirk as he added. “Or did that go in one audio and out the other?”

“Maybe it bounced off all the rule books he has stuffed in his processor and went out his exhaust instead?” someone remarked, sounded like Whirl. A few Wreckers started chuckling.

“That would imply it stayed any length of time in his body,” Ebonscream retorted, looking at him expectedly. “Well?”

Magnus had to think back a bit. Recalled the protests and arguments he had with Wheeljack and others regarding certain missions. They had always been worried about non-combatant casualties., a factor that was unfortunately not always avoided in the heat of war. “Something about protecting non-combatants?” he replied.

“Close…,” Ebonscream acknowledged, looking slightly impressed. “It’s ta ‘protect the little bot’. Ta protect those that could not protect themselves, from whatever…or whomever…that was.”

Ah, yes, he did remember being told that. “An honorable goal, but not always _feasible_ ,” he commented. “That is why we have rules, laws and regulations to-“

“Which have their place,” Ebonscream interrupted. “But what good are they if the common bot cannot understand them?” He brought out a datapad: from the title he could see, it was one of the many books that listed current laws on Cybertron. “I tried readin’ this and felt a processor ache comin’ on from just tryin’ ta understand the contents of the _first page_.”

“There are specialists trained to help individuals under-“

_“Why_ should _anyone_ have ta go see a _specialist_ ta understand things everyone is expected _ta_ follow?” Ebonscream snapped. “Why is this not written in plain Cybertronian and not this…this…cryptic, optic straining, processor aching…” He looked toward the other Wreckers. “What did ya say this ‘language’ was again?”

“Legalese!” one of them replied.

“Thank ya.” Ebonscream looked back toward him again. “So, why aren’t these written in plain Cybertronian?”

He had a point. How _could_ they expect the common citizen to follow the law if the law was so confusing? However, there was a reason it was written the way it was.

“Everything we have, government wise, was based on what the Quintesson’s-“ he started to explain.

“Annnnd there’s the problem…,” the seeker growled, interrupting him _again_. “Considerin’ what _they_ ended up bein’…why the frag did ya _not_ just trash what they wrote for ya, legal wise?”

Another point…and to this Ultra Magnus could only shrug. “That, I do not have the answer to.”

“Unfortunate, but not unexpected,” Ebonscream was grumbling as he took a few steps back. “This is useless ta me.” Then, to Magnus’ shock, he threw the pad up into the air, then sliced it into two with his saber. “Bah…not even _close_ ta bein’ in half…stupid leg….”

“You’ll get back up to form soon enough, love,” Wheeljack was assuring his mate as he sheathed the saber. “And before ya get your armor in a twist, Maggy…that was a store-bought copy….” He added with a smirk. “Found in the ‘just take it’ bin.”

Magnus snorted but didn’t rise to the bait: those kinds of books were _supposed_ to be free to all citizens to begin with. However, getting into a legal debate here was not his intent. “If you are finished, everyone here is required to return to base for-“

“I am sorry,” Ebonscream interrupted, once more, his tone slightly dramatic. “But I _outrank ya_ , thus we are not movin’ anywhere unless I say so!”

“A Tactician does not ‘outrank’ a _Commander_!” Magnus sneered. The gall of this mech….

Ebonscream’s face split into a sly smile. “No…but a _Founder_ does….”

Magnus recoiled, caught off guard by this. He looked around the room, every Wrecker nodding in acknowledgement. “Not necessarily…,” he countered. “A Founder can cede their authority at any point without losing their recognition as a Founder.”

“An authority I never _ceded_ ,” Ebonscream revealed. “My…forced absence…does not count. Come ta think of it…any one of the other Founders could have ignored your orders _completely_.”

“We only didn’t out of respect for Optimus,” Kup admitted, Impactor, Seaspray and a couple others nodding.

That made sense. The others had a long history with the Prime, thus would be more _understanding_ of Optimus’ reasoning. This mech however… _lacked_ that history, therefore his ‘opposition’ to his authority was better understood. “I understand you wish to keep hold of what you had back then,” Magnus began. “But these are different times. _Very_ different times. Your _style_ of leadership is-“

“Would be much better in these ‘times’ than yours,” Ebonscream interrupted with a growl.

“That is a matter of _opinion_ ,” Ultra Magnus sighed. “Will you please stop interrupting me….”

“I interrupt ta stop the spoutin’ of obvious bullscrap,” Ebonscream retorted cheekily. “Saves us time. That said and ta elaborate… _your_ style of leadership is ill suited for what we do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I think I do…your leadership style is more suited for front line soldiers…not a group like the Wreckers.”

“That is not what I-“

“Ya lack the _flexibility_ ta lead us.”

“And he doesn’t mean the berthroom kind either!” Whirl remarked, prompting a few chuckles.

“Whirl, unless ya want ta start cleanin’ ductwork with those claws of yours…,” Ebonscream stated warningly.

“Eep…Serious time…got it!” Whirl then pulled out a rag and tied it around his head. It was utterly pointless, as he had no mouth, but clearly served as more _symbolic_ gesture of compliance.

Interesting…every time _he_ tried to get Whirl to behave, he was just insulted or flipped off….

“What do you mean by ‘flexibility’,” Magnus asked, staying on topic.

“As I stated before, rules and regulations have their place,” Ebonscream began, pacing slowly with his hands clasped behind his back. Well, his left arm couldn’t quite manage that. “However, on the battlefield…durin’ a mission…things can change quickly…and in unexpected ways. In those situations, such things cannot be _relied_ upon to ensure success or survival.”

“We are currently not in a war, nor doing any ‘missions’,” Ultra Magnus pointed out. “There is no reason not to-“

“I would be dead right now, if my Wreckers had strictly followed those rules and regulations,” Ebonscream stated bluntly, the seeker having stopped pacing, his back to him. That, along with the steely glares of the other Wreckers, made him shut up. “The life support pod…,” the seeker continued. “Didn’t have much juice left…and likely would have failed by the time ‘proper’ permission from the likes of Sentinel was obtained…if such permission had been granted at all. And there is no tellin’ how the bondbreak would have affected Jackie….”

Magnus looked at Wheeljack, who was shuddering. “At best it may have killed me outright…,” the Wrecker muttered.

They had a point, but….

“An emergency situation such as that I can understand…,” Ultra Magnus remarked. “But it would be considered an _exception_.”

There was a heavy sigh from the seeker. “I am not advocatin’ for a blind optic so we can do what we wish,” he grumbled. 

“Then what, exactly, do you want?” Magnus demanded. “You’ve already proven your point about being ‘above’ me in the Command Chain and could, technically, do whatever you want with the Wreckers. Even _remove me from Command_ if you so wish!”

“Which I do not want ta do,” Ebonscream admitted, facing him once more. “As I need someone like ya. Ya are far more familiar with how this world currently works than I, especially with its…deeper innerworkings.”

“You need an advisor.”

“Yes…but one that supports our ideals and goals.” There was a tone of caution in his voice. “I already _reminded_ ya of our purpose.”

“The Enforcers already fulfill that purpose.”

“Do they?” Ebonscream tilted his head. “Do they really protect those that cannot protect themselves? Every single one of them?”

A moment of silence stretched between them as Ultra Magnus thought. It didn’t take long for him to realize _who_ exactly Ebonscream was talking about. The very same thing Optimus took issue with.

What was done to the Decepticons at the end of the war.

“They were made slaves as punishment for their crimes during the war,” he stated.

“Considering what the Quintessons wanted ta do ta us…I find it…hypocritical…that we would result in doin’ that ta ourselves.” There was an especially pained tone in his voice when he added. “It is a disgrace…an _insult_ ta all those who lost their lives durin’ the Wrath War!”

He…had never thought of it that way. Primus….

“I need ta know where ya _stand_ , Magnus,” Ebonscream declared. “Before I can make a decision about ya.

“I-“

“I’ll give ya time ta think it over,” Ebonscream interrupted with a light cutting motion of a hand. “As I can imagine figurin’ out what your own morals lay may be…difficult….” There was a teasing smirk on his face, to which Magnus scowled.

“We shall take our leave…however,” Ebonscream stepped right up to him, his wings flared. “Do _not_ approach us again until ya have an answer. Are we agreed?” Magnus nodded, finding it a reasonable enough request. “Good.”

The seeker then stepped back a few paces, threw his shoulders back, then banged his wings against them a few times. At once the other Wreckers scattered, picking up their belongings as they went. Only Ebonscream did not move, whom was still staring at him.

“One last question for ya ta chew on,” the seeker stated. “What good are laws…if the ones that are supposed ta uphold them…do not follow them themselves?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond to that question, as Ebonscream had turned and disappeared into the throng of Wreckers as they rapidly packed up. Within moments, Ultra Magnus was standing alone in the room, with little sign the Wreckers had ever been there. They had never been _that_ thorough when he did a ‘bug out’ order.

Magnus left the building with a lot to think about…and a slightly wounded pride….


	21. Impulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ebonscream's bad day....

That had been a long night. Between the encounter with Ultra Magnus and relocating, Wheeljack was both mentally and physically exhausted by the time they could turn in for the night. Ebonscream, however, had been acting a bit _frisky_ : he wanted a ‘glossa dance’ in his valve, which Wheeljack was happy to provide. It was nice to know he still remembered how to make his mate _sing._

They also briefly melded afterward, just enough to finally strengthen the bond that had been weakened by time. Hopefully, it was also brief enough to prevent his mate from seeing his memories. With how exhausted he was at the time, Wheeljack doubted he would have been able to ‘hide’ certain memories from him. Particularly the ones regarding a certain former Siren….

It was a worry that surfaced when Wheeljack noticed his mate wasn’t in the berth when he booted up this morning. Not an odd thing on its own, as it had been a frequent occurrence in the past. However, Ebonscream was _supposed_ to be taking it easy and only _walking_ when needed. So as soon as he was fully booted up, Wheeljack went looking for him, hoping his mate just want to the refuel pit, or the medbay.

Ebonscream wasn’t in either place…instead, much to Wheeljack’s dismay, he found his mate in the makeshift sparing room. It would have been, mostly, fine if he was training someone, but no, Ebonscream was using one of the dummies himself. Punching and kicking it the best he could with the disabilities he currently had, his face contorted with frustration.

Frag…he hoped that was due to his current physical limitations and not….

“I seriously doubt the medics gave ya clearance to do that yet,” he chided as he approached him.

“Well I can’t exactly go for a _walk_ right now, can I?” Ebonscream retorted, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

This meant something big was on his mind. “Alright…what’s eatin’ at ya?” he asked, hoping it was about Ultra Magnus and not….

“Flashwing,” Ebonscream grumbled, turning toward hm fully. “When were ya going to _tell_ me about him?” Oof…the ‘disappointment’, ’concern’, and ‘confliction’ he felt across their bond at that moment....

Scrap, this had the potential to go very badly….

“I had mentioned everythin’ ya _needed_ to know about him at the time, Ebs,” Wheeljack replied, his tone sounding more guarded than he liked.

“Humph…so he _is_ the ‘reformed’ Siren then…,” Ebonscream snarled. “And ya really think the progeny of _Stormburst_ is capable of reform?”

Wheeljack’s optics widened a bit, but then narrowed them. “Just because he shares CNA with that aft, doesn’t mean he is stuck following his footsteps,” he countered. “Ya know that Ebony…and where the frag did ya learn about that in the first place?”

“Starsong.” Was the response, his mate’s tone slightly subdued. “They told… _warned_ me about him before they succumbed to their wounds inflicted upon them by Quintesson experiments….”

He crushed his optics closed a moment in grief, feeling the pang of regret he never got the chance to mend the relationship they had. “What did they tell ya about him?” Once Ebonscream had finished doing so he stated. “Yeah, that matches up with what he told me himself.”

“But he could have been usin’ that ta gain sympathy, ta lower your guard….”

“Oh, trust me, Ebs, I thought the same,” Wheeljack admitted, folding his arms. “But he convinced me of his sincerity when I overheard him tell Flatwheel to essentially shove the Siren ways up his aft. And no…there was no way he could have known I was there at the time. I can show ya the memory file of that night, if ya want.”

“No…I trust your word on that,” Ebonscream grumbled, looking away briefly before looking back at him with a hardened expression. “But if was just that, why keep it from me?”

Wheeljack couldn’t stop himself from shifting uncomfortably or show it on his face. “’Cause there’s somethin’ else regardin’ him you’re not ready for yet….”

His mate’s plating started to bristle. “And who are ya ta _judge_ that?” he snarled as he approached him, wings flared. Ebonscream would be more intimidating if he didn’t have that severe limp.

“I’m a better judge considerin’ I’m your bondmate,” Wheeljack retorted bluntly, folding his arms and standing his ground. “If I told ya now, you are likely to do somethin’ impulsive and stupid.”

Scrap, that only riled him up more. “Ya think I’m _that_ _undisciplined_?” he hissed, towering over him.

“Normally, no, but this ain’t normal times for ya,” Wheeljack replied calmly, pushing the same through their bond. “I don’t want ya to rush off to try to murder a mech that regrets his past actions.”

Pit…that revealed too much. Ebonscream had stepped back, optics slightly widened in shock. Then he looked down, his optics narrowing in thought. “Was he the one responsible for….” Ebonscream didn’t finish the question, his voice quivering, but Wheeljack couldn’t tell if that was from grief or rage. Regardless, he knew what he was referring to....

“Ebony,” Wheeljack pleaded, his hands up. “Now is not the right-“

“ _Answer me_!” Ebonscream screeched, fists clenched, wings and plating flared.

Wheeljack sighed, taking a moment to both collect his thoughts and to ping a warning to Kup: he was the only other one that knew certain ‘details’ about Flashwing at present. He waited for acknowledgment notice before answering Ebonscream’s demand. “Ya weren’t the intended target that day, Ebs…,” he replied softly, pushing ‘calm’ through their bond.

“Does it matter if it was _intended_ or not!?” Ebonscream retorted hotly, Wheeljack wincing at the ‘rage’ he got back. “He cost us our _child_!”

“Ebony, he’s also the only reason we-“ He was knocked on his aft when Ebonscream rushed forward and pushed him out of the way before running out the door. “Ebony!”

He scrambled to his feet and gave chase as he sent a more urgent ping to Kup, suspecting he was heading for the nearby courtyard. Thankfully, he wasn’t nearly as fast as he usually was due to the condition of his leg, thus he was able to slip in front of him, blocking his way shortly before the exit to the courtyard.

“Ebony, stop! You’re not thinkin’-“

“Get out of my way!” Ebonscream snarled, claws flexing menacingly.

“You’re not bein’ yourself,” Wheeljack pleaded, once more pushing ‘calm’ through their bond. “Ya need to _think_ …ya need to-“ He yelped in surprise when Ebonscream simply vaulted over him. Times like this he wished he wasn’t roughly half his height!

“No you don’t, Ebs!” He heard Kup declare as he turned around. The other Wrecker was standing just outside, his massive hammer in his hands.

“Not ya ta!” Ebonscream was growling. “Move!”

“You’re not leaving this building!”

“Watch me!” Ebonscream started to rush him, but Wheeljack grabbed him from behind. This time, his height was an advantage: he was too short to use normal hold counters on and his strength made it hard to just simply break free.

“Please listen!” he pleaded as his mate attempted to pry his hands off. “He was the reason we were able to start lookin’ for-“ Wheeljack yowled in pain and surprise when a wing smacked against one of his audio fins, causing that audio to ring painfully. Painful enough for cause him to loosen his grip, enabling Ebonscream to break free.

Despite the disorientation he was in, he attempted to grab Ebonscream again, only to miss, stagger, then fall on his face. He looked up in time to see his mate grab Kup’s hammer, then shove it against the senior Wrecker, causing Kup to lose his footing and fall on his aft, before running into the courtyard.

“Ebony, no! Don’t!” Wheeljack cried out, scrambling to his feet.

Too late. Ebonscream had started his transformation sequence. He got half-way through before he let out the most energon curdling screech Wheeljack had ever heard. Wheeljack grimaced from the ‘PAIN’ he received through the bond, as Ebonscream fell to the ground. Most of him reverted back to robot mode, but his left arm was stuck halfway.

Wheeljack rushed to his mate’s side, who was still writhing on the ground in agony. He was at a loss on what to do: he had seen transformation glitches before, but what to do to aid the one suffering from it just wouldn’t come to him. Not helping was that his spark was being constantly bombarded with ‘pain/anger/confusion’.

“The medics are on the way,” he heard Kup say as he joined him. “Ebony…I know it hurts, but you need to stop squirming around, it ain’t helping any!” He tapped him on the head. “Take some deep intakes and calm the frag down!”

Wheeljack silently thanked Kup for being able to think clearly during this. Thankfully, Ebonscream heeded the other Wrecker’s advice. When the medics arrived a moment later, the seeker was calm enough for them to reach his medical port without issue. 

“Dammit idiot,” Gearbolt was grumbling as he inserted a jack into the seeker’s medical port. “What was he thinking!?” Within seconds Ebonscream was in stasis.

“He wasn’t…,” Wheeljack sighed, stroking his mate’s face. “Primus…I’ve never seen him act like this before….” The closest he had seen him get this angry before was the first time he and Stormburst first ‘met’. The Siren Overseer had ambushed and knocked him out before they had known he was there. Ebonscream was quite _livid_ about the use of such dishonorable, cowardly tactics and would have won the fight against him after if it wasn’t for the concession he had received. If Kup and Bulkhead hadn’t arrived in time…the Sirens would have won that fight….

“What the frag set him off like this?” Hammercircuit asked as the medic did a scan to assess the damage. Around them, Wheeljack noticed, was a number of other Wreckers now looking on. Pit, of course all the commotion would draw attention. Answering Hammercircuit’s question had become a dicey prospect….

Wheeljack looked up at Kup, uncertain, making sure he glanced at the onlookers while the older mech was looking at him. “They need to know,” Kup sighed, rubbing his face. “But that can wait a bit longer.” He then looked at the other Wreckers. “Show times over, you gawkers! Go back to your duties!” 

There was some mumbling and grips, but the small crowd dispersed. Rumors and speculation will no doubt start to spread, which meant Wheeljack will have no choice but to tell them tonight. That made him uncomfortable, as the original plan was to wait until Ebonscream was healed enough to think rationally about that information, so he could help break it to the rest of the Wreckers. Unfortunately, Ebonscream finding out too soon put a serious dent in that plan.

“Blast…looks like we missed a critical piece during our first pass,” Hammercircuit announced. “That piece fragging up…kept the other pieces from shifting properly. Thankfully the damage to the surrounding pieces is minimal…but we may need to just replace this one piece….” The medic then glared at him. “And you still didn’t tell us what set him off. Don’t think for one moment we will ‘wait’ until you decide to tell everyone else.”

“To be honest, kid,” Kup was sighing. “You should have told them the same time you told me….”

Wheeljack sighed himself, realizing he was right. “The Quintessons coming across him and Starsong that day was not by chance…,” he began. Both medic’s optics were wide by the time he was done.

“Yep…that would explain it…,” Gearbolt grumbled. “Especially with latent carrier coding still being active…”

“Seriously, Gear? Doesn’t that shit normally go away by the time the bitlet is half-grown?” Kup remarked with disbelief. “It’s been _eons_ since the had Nightfire….”

“And ninety-nine percent of that time was spent in _stasis_ ,” the medic countered. “Being in stasis doesn’t allow for coding to adjust and change unless there is _external_ interference.”

“Right…good point.”

“So…will we need to do some…’external interference’ to ensure he doesn’t try to go murder Flash again?” Wheeljack muttered.

Both medics sighed. “Best case scenario this mishap ‘shocked’ some sense into him,” Hammercircuit replied. “It would be a good idea to see if Rung can come visit again sooner.”

“I’ll get on the comms and check on that,” Kup offered.

“Let’s wait until we see how he is after we finish the repairs,” Gearbolt stated before tapping on the half-transformed arm. “This is going to take a while to correct.”

“Fair enough.” Kup sighed, his arms folded as the medics started to carry Ebonscream to their medbay. “Hopefully we can prevent another outburst like that,” the senior Wrecker muttered to him. “We don’t know when those three will need an evac….”

Wheeljack shuddered, a part of him wishing those three had taken their offer of relocation. Yeah, he understood why they felt they couldn’t at the time, but the Wrecker’s ability to help them was limited right now. It would not be a good thing if, during an evac, Ebonscream went into another fit the moment he spotted Flashwing. He could only hope Ebonscream calmed down and saw reason on the issue before that inevitable day came….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current finished chapter count:
> 
> Karma: 227  
> ???: 1


	22. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ebony reflects on what happened....

Ebonscream lay on the berth, his mind in turmoil. He had been laying here since the medics told him he was free to go, but he had refused. The medic couple had expressed annoyance, especially when he didn’t answer their query on _why_ , but didn’t press the issue. Those two were smart and experienced enough to guess why anyway.

In short, he didn’t trust himself right now.

Primus, he had reacted so aggressively…with such _fury_ …at learning Flashwing was responsible for sending him into Quintesson tentacles. Why didn’t he give Wheeljack a chance to explain? Why didn’t he have any sense of control over his emotions? Worse, he had been willing to cause his own _mate_ harm in his blind attempt to hunt Flashwing down. That troubled him the most and he didn’t fully understand _why_ he had gone to such an extreme.

He knew it was time for the nightly powwow, but he didn’t feel inclined to join it. The shame he felt at acting in such a way, him…who was supposed to be the most _disciplined_ of them all, was too great. He hadn’t even reacted to the gentle, curious prod from Wheeljack across their bond. How could he face his mate right now? So he just stayed where he was, wallowing in misery, his thoughts starting to go down a darker and darker path.

A hand started rubbing the wrist of his other arm, a familiar motion…a _tempting_ motion. He shouldn’t, no, he _knew_ it ultimately did not help. Especially in the long run. But those dark thoughts wouldn’t go away….

The armor paneling on the underside of his forearm transformed away.

No, he shouldn’t. This was a new body…the bad habits of the past should stay in the past.

But he needed _relief_. To be _punished_ for what he did. Surely one small cut….

One taloned finger extended, _reached_ for that soft protoform metal….

A hand grabbed that arm and pulled it away, Ebonscream squawking in surprise. He looked up at the face of Wheeljack, who was looking down at him with concern, sadness and a hint of disappointment. “Ya know better than that, Ebs…,” he was telling him softly.

All at once the tears started to flow as Ebonscream broke into sobs. “Why do ya even want ta _touch_ me right now?” he blathered, looking away.

He heard Wheeljack snort faintly, before pulling him into an embrace. “Because I _love_ you, Ebony….”

“How can ya? I _hurt_ ya….,” Ebonscream whimpered, crying into his mate’s shoulder.

“Ya weren’t thinkin’ straight then, love….”

“But that’s the _problem_!” he insisted. “I normally think things through…but I….”

“As I told ya before, Ebs, these aren’t normal times for you,” Wheeljack countered, one hand now rubbing his back. “You’ve been put through a lot of scrap…got a lot of things on your plate. We each can only take so much…and I’ve seen my fair share of bots snapping under the pressure.”

That…made sense, but…since when….

“When did ya become so wise, Jackie?” he muttered.

“Wise?” Wheeljack laughed. “More like I’ve had a bit of _sense_ pounded into my thick helm over the years.”

Ebonscream choked a laugh. “Ya…that does fit ya better…,” he agreed, then sighed. “But…my actions earlier…I….” Ebonscream pressed himself tightly against him. “I understand now why ya didn’t want ta tell me so soon: I attempted ta do _exactly_ what ya said I would….”

“And thank Primus your arm didn’t want to cooperate,” Wheeljack grumbled. “If ya had succeeded in transformin’….”

Ebonscream shuddered as the various possibilities flashed through his processor. Possibilities from crashing due to not having flown in eons among other things, to being captured by Enforcement. The Wreckers had very few flyers and of them only Jetfire was fast enough to catch him: Jetfire wasn’t with them today.

“Do the others know…why I acted like that?” he asked with some hesitation.

“They do now,” Wheeljack sighed. “Told them everythin’ durin’ the powwow, though Kup and I broke it to the other Founder’s first ahead of time, so they could help keep everyone calm and rational. Went about as well as to be expected. There were a few hot heads, but, to be honest, I’m worried about Whirl the most. He…oddly didn’t say much of anythin’ durin’ the whole thin’….”

That was worrisome. Aside from himself, Wheeljack and Jetfire, Whirl was the only other Wrecker they knew of that had a _personal_ reason to want to hurt Flashwing. He will have to be watched when the inevitable meeting arrived. However, what good would watching _Whirl_ do if he was a potential loose cannon himself?

“How do I keep myself from actin’ out like that again?” he wondered, mostly to himself.

“Well, Rung will help ya out for sure there,” Wheeljack replied, pulling back. “We contacted him earlier and gave him a heads up. He’s gonna see if he can rearrange his schedule to come see ya again sooner.”

_Yes…good idea._ The therapist had helped him out greatly so far.

“Also, I think ‘showin’ you what I’ve experienced with Flashwing myself, may help,” Wheeljack offered.

Also a good idea. Context…information…details…always good. Ebonscream nodded in agreement and seconds later he was looking at his mate’s beautiful green spark. He quickly revealed his own pale one.

As they initiated the meld, Ebonscream prayed what he saw would temper any future impulse reactions in regards to Flashwing….


	23. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack is at his wits end...but maybe Whirl, of all bots, has a solution?

His lovely mate has developed a rather _annoying_ quirk.

Wheeljack sighed as Ebonscream preened him, hating every moment of it, but tolerating it all the same. Better him than someone else…better _this_ than the other things his mate seemed prone to now. 

Things like...being obsessive about cleanliness. He’s preened…or at least _attempted_ to preen just about every Wrecker in the camp by now. Better than cutting, he admitted, but his tank had told him something else was going on.

They got a big clue on what that was when Ebonscream attempted to _cradle_ Eclipse in his arms. The bike frame, likely out of a mix of shock and pride, had socked the seeker in the face. She apologized profusely after, but so did a rather embarrassed Ebonscream.

During the examination after that, Gearbolt had remarked that his carrier coding was still present. He had remarked how odd it was it hadn’t faded by now and speculated it must be driving him to find a substitute. Why it didn’t get this bad until now? They could only guess his recent fit over Flashwing may have contributed.

The medic, for the sake of everyone’s sanity, went in manually to turn it off…

…only for it to come back a day later, further stumping them all. The only other possibility they could think of was that Ebonscream’s new frame was going through a ‘maturation phase’, amplifying the effects of the carrier coding. Both medics admitted they had never heard of a case of a spark going through ‘courtship coding activation’ twice. A question for Ratchet when they next got the chance. In the meantime, it looked like their only choice was to wait it out.

So Wheeljack did what he could to ensure _he_ was the target of Ebonscream’s ‘mothering’, to spare everyone else the embarrassment at the cost of his own dignity. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but if it delayed Kup using Ebonscream as a literal nail the next time he attempted to mother ‘him’….

If there was one ‘upside’ to this, it was that they were fully cleared for all ‘sexual’ activities. Oh, it had felt so _good_ to interface again with the one he loved. He had asked the medics if attempting to have another sparkling could help quell the coding, but they weren’t sure. They had also cautioned it may not be a good _time_ to do so, considering the current state of things: losing another sparkling, for whatever reason, may completely break Ebonscream. Wheeljack didn’t want that….

So endure this indignity he must, for everyone’s sake. Primus, Ebonscream must have gone over that area three times. Wheeljack was certain he didn’t have any paint nanites left in those seams…

“Hey Ebby!” the voice of Whirl called out. Wheeljack felt his mate tense, then heard a faint, annoyed growl as the one-opticked helo appeared in their doorway.

“Whirl…,” Ebonscream was scowled. “I told ya before I don’t like bein’ called that….”

“I got a gift for you, Ebby!” Whirl stated, completely ignoring the statement. “One that may help the little _problem_ you have right now!”

“ _Ya_ are going ta _have_ a problem in a second if ya-“ Ebonscream’s scolding tirade was cut short when Whirl pulled something out of his subspace. Wheeljack raised a brow in both shock and confusion, his processor taking a moment to parse what he was seeing.

The object was roughly the size of a sparkling and Cybertronian in shape, complete with a pair of large, blue, glassy orbs that mimicked optics. It was a dark blue and grey in color, covered in a soft micro mesh, but it clearly had some _weight_ to it, suggesting it contained a simple armature inside.

“Whirl….,” Wheeljack began, still a little confused as he felt Ebonscream shift and get up off the berth. “What is that?”

“It’s a doll!” Whirl replied, happily. “Heard humans like these things…use them as subs for babies and such. Thought it may help.”

“Uh….” He wasn’t sure what to think about this. Ebonscream, he noticed, was approaching Whirl cautiously. He was slightly hunched over, his wings initially twitching with anxiety, then started to flutter when Whirl offered the ‘doll’ to him. Ebonscream quickly took it, then cradled it in his arms, cooing and stroking it, as he returned to the berth. Wheeljack could only blink in shock. “Where did you get that…?” he finally managed to ask.

“Swindle.”

Of course…he should have known. That mech somehow could get _anything_ no matter how odd it was. If he had to guess, Swindle likely had some arrangements among the humans to make some of their products ‘Cybertronian sized’….

“Do I _want_ to know how much that cost ya?” Wheeljack dared to ask.

“No cost too high to ensure _I_ am the only nutty one in this gang!” Whirl boosted proudly.

Typical. “Thanks…hopefully it helps....”

“You’re welcome!” the helo chirped cheerfully, giving them a wave before leaving.

It turned out it _did_ help quite a bit. So long as Ebonscream had the doll within easy reach, he used that to satisfy his mothering urges instead of attempting to preen anyone. Rung, on his next visit, had been rather intrigued by this development, taking notes and remarking he may see about suggesting this sort of treatment for other patients suffering from sparkling loss.

Wheeljack’s wasn’t the only processor that was blown away by the prospect that Whirl random idea ended up being a very good thing….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *post uploaded comment* I was informed by DBC that Swindle died fairly early on in 'The Pound', so I made a bit of a goof here (In my defense, I was thinking Animated Swindle whom was not part of a gesult?).
> 
> That said, I think the easiest way to 'fix' this is that the 'Swindle' Whirl met isn't the real 'Swindle' (or at least not the one that's part of Vortex's gesult) and Whirl's an idiot. Plus, there's not an easy way for Wheeljack and co to know which Cons are dead anyway....


	24. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He regrets his life choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My net is back!. Again, I apologize for the late upload due to that.

His life would be so much _better_ if he had made different choices in life.

These huge aft shoulder pauldrons and chest panels? What was he thinking to modify himself to have them? Yes, they made him look super stylish, at least before they got marred up by countless scars from various whips, but they made it hard to squeeze through some areas. Same with the wheels sticking out of his back. Should have reformatted himself to have them be a part of his limbs, like _most_ bots.

Bright red, white and gold paint? Even with what was left of his once proud paintjob was too ‘loud’ and made him easy to spot in the darkest of corners. Sure, it was his natural coloration, but he could have tweeked it so it wasn’t so _saturated_ in hue! It just made trying to hide from his pursuer that much harder.

He yelped when a shot from a high-powered rifle hit the wall next to him, showering him with sparks and debris. In the distance, he could hear the laugh and taunts of the one hunting him. It pushed him to run harder, to weave through the ruins in an attempt to keep as many walls between him and the hunter as possible.

Never should have left Velocitron. Taking Megatron’s offer was the stupidest mistake _ever_! But nooo, he had gotten bored, wanted something _new_. Got to see lots of new places, sure, but that came with countless horrors right along with it. If Megatron was still alive, he’d sue for-

Another shot, this one nearly missing his head. 

“Keep running, Con!” he heard the mech call out, the hunter’s voice was a lot closer now. “I’m not done playing with you yet!” With a whimper, he pushed himself even harder. He could feel his legs start to burn from the exertion, but he ignored it. Compartmentalized it along with all the other recent pain and traumas he had both suffered and witnessed. A skill developed during the war, one any medic would have learned to keep their sanity.

Perhaps never should have gone into medicine…which was what got that Warlord’s attention in the first place. Fashion design…yes…that would have been a much better occupation for him. A much _safer_ one! He knew he already had the optic for it….

He stumbled, having to catch himself on a wall to keep himself from falling to the ground. If he had, he’d likely never get back on his feet again. With a bit of effort, he pushed himself off the wall and kept going, turning a corner just as a piece of that corner was blown off. 

A warning shock forced him to skid to a halt only a few seconds later. He had reached the border of the ‘hunting zone’, but he was in the middle of a long alley…with the only way out being the back way he came. Perhaps if he was quick enough, he could-

There was a laugh behind him, his spark sinking. He turned around to finally see the face of the hunter: a burly, short mech holding a sniper rifle, with a hunting knife visible on his side. “Bad luck, Con,” he was saying, a dark shadow spreading out from behind him, like a specter of death. “You were a lot more fun to hunt than a dumb animal, I admit.” the rifle was put away with one hand as he pulled out the hunting knife with the other.

_No…I don’t want to die…._ Tears rolled down his once pure white face, instinctively backing away, only for the collar to give him another warning shock.

“Will be fun hearing you scream as I cut you up….,” the mech was saying as he started to stalk closer. Through blurry teared optics, he could see the shadow behind the hunter spread further like a butterfly spreading its wings. There was also a pair of red glowing spots hovering over the mech’s head.

A specter of death for sure. Perhaps, if he just ran through the invisible border, the full shock would knock him out and deny this cruel mech his screams. No…he’d likely wait for him to wake up before starting to gut him alive….

“Coward…,” a new voice growled from behind the hunter. The mech spun around, his hunting knife slashing through the air. Something ‘caught’ that arm, then twisted it, forcing the mech to bend over, the knife dropping out of his hands. “Huntin’ someone that cannot fight back….”

“Who are you!?” the hunter growled. “You are interfering with a paid-“ He screamed when the ‘shadow’ twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him against the wall.

Only…he could see it wasn’t a shadow at all…but a seeker! Black and grey with silver accents, red optics blazing with fury. He didn’t recognize him, and he had treated many seekers during the war. Accent was not Veloctironian…but he wasn’t sure he was a homeworld mech either.

“Paid…,” the seeker growled with distaste. “Have we turned inta Quintessons? Is Cybertronian life only worth how much someone is willin’ ta pay for it?” The hunter was blinking in confusion.

A saber was pulled off the seeker’s side. Wait…that saber looked familiar? He watched with wide optics as the seeker thrust the saber with enough force to bury the tip of it into the wall right next to the hunter’s face. Those optics were now wide with shock.

“You can’t!” the mech cried. “I’m a free mech!”

“Are ya? Ya seem quite the prisoner right now….,” the seeker taunted. “Tell me…how much are ya worth?” The saber was pulled out of the wall, then slid closer and closer to the mech’s face.

“I’m worth more than that slave!” the hunter cried, starting to struggle, but the seeker planted a knee in the middle of his back, effectively limiting his ability to do much.

“I disagree. Someone that values life in general so _poorly_ …is worth _less_ than a slave’s….” A light cut was made across the mech’s cheek. “Ya…who hunts other lifeforms for sport…for _pleasure_ …you’re a _Quintesson in a Cybertronian body_!” 

With a screech, the seeker started slamming the mech’s head against the wall. After several of such hits, the hunter was thrown to the ground onto his belly, where the seeker planted a foot onto his back. “’Fortunately’ for ya,” the seeker growled. “I value life more than ya do…so ya will live this day.” The hilt of the saber was then brought down upon the hunter’s head, knocking him out cold.

It dawned on him at that moment that he could… _should_ have taken this opportunity to run past them both. To where though? He was still limited to these few blocks of ruins and eventually someone would have found him again. Too late now, anyway. No choice but to wait to see if his ‘savor’ was more than just talk in regards to valuing life.

“Are ya hurt?” the seeker asked, that saber thankfully being put back in it’s sheath. His demeaner had completely changed, no aggression or disgust, only a, mostly, calm, sympathetic expression toward him.

He shook his head, relaxing somewhat himself. Now that he didn’t seem to be in any danger, he could see this seeker was having some issues with his left arm and right leg. There was a limp as he approached him and he kept flexing and bending his left arm, as if it was stiff and or sore. As he got close, he could now see the marks of repair work on both.

“Then let’s get ya out of this place,” the seeker remarked, walking past him.

“I…I can’t go beyond this point,” he said. “The collar is set to stop me if I try….”

In a blink of an optic, that saber came out again and slashed in the air in front of him. He yelped in surprise, thinking he was just killed. But no…to his shock, the slave collar slipped off his neck and landed with a thud on the floor. 

“What collar?” the seeker remarked, a smirk on his face as the saber was sheathed once more. “Now come, quickly as ya can.”

He felt his neck where it once lay, feeling rather naked without it as he followed the seeker, who had taken off in a light jog. His processor was spinning…did this seeker really just ‘free’ him? So many questions…and doubts started forming in his processor. He kept his intake shut, no matter how badly he wanted to ask questions. This could all be a ruse, another level of this cruel game his owners had planned.

Yet, he still followed, a bit of hope in his spark. Followed until they had reached the edge of the ruins, where they were met by a small group of other bots. His optics widened when he recognized some of them: they were Wreckers. Scrap…were they ‘friends’ or….

“Primus, dammit Ebony!” one of them, whom he instantly recognized as Wheeljack cried. “This was supposed to be just a test flight!” Beside him, a grey and yellow mech that looked similar to Ratchet was sighing and rubbing his face.

“There was a…’slave hunt’ being conducted in the ruins,” the seeker countered calmly. “And there had been no time ta call ya…the hunter had cornered his ‘prey’ and was about ta go in for the kill.” He raised a finger, cutting off Wheeljack’s response. “Ya can ‘scold’ me later…I had ta cut his collar off so he could leave the area.”

“Scrap, he has a point. A ‘debrief’ can wait,” a teal grounder remarked. He believed that one was Kup? “Bulkhead, you know the drill.”

Moments later, said Wrecker had pulled up with a trailer. He was directed to go inside, but to his surprise, ‘Ebony’ got in with him. Wait…didn’t Wheeljack just say he was doing a test flight? That would explain it….

“I apologize for the impedin’ horrible ride…,” the seeker grumbled, then winced the trailer started moving. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Knock Ow! Out,” he replied as he was jostled by a hard bump.

The seeker nodded with acknowledgment. “I am Ebonscream. I assume ya are familiar with the others?”

“Some of them,” Knockout admitted. “Wheeljack and Bulkhead for certain.” After a pause he hesitantly asked. “Were…you a slave too?”

Ebonscream was shaking his head. “I was a captive, yes, but not a slave. It’s…quite a tale, but-ow-it can wait until we reach the camp.”

“What will you do to me?” He couldn’t keep his voice from trembling.

“Our medics will give ya a look over…then debrief ya. Any knowledge ya have on other slaves will be helpful,” Ebonscream replied. “After that, you’ll be sent ta a Sanctuary for recovery and rehabilitation.”

That…sounded good. Perhaps too good. Knockout could only hope Ebonscream truly meant what he had said. Doubt briefly started to rise up when the seeker started reaching for him, flashbacks of the abuse he suffered at the hands of his owner’s clients starting to appear in his processor.

Then that hand clenched, Ebonscream crushing his optics closed, his mouth twisted into a determined grimace. To his surprise, the seeker pulled out a…sparkling sized plushie…from his subspace and started cradling, stroking and cooing at it. Knockout got what was going on immediately.

Poor mech had lost a sparkling. “My condolences for your loss…,” he stated respectfully. Ebonscream had simply just nodded his head in acknowledgement, his attention too focused on the doll.

So this mech had both mental and physical issues. Perhaps it was his medic coding poking him, but he felt the need to try to help. To be useful.

Well, useful in a way that didn’t involve being raped, whipped or chased through ruins with sniper rounds flying over his head….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knockout: mix of TFP and IDW versions.


	25. Guiding Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap takes place between 'Karma' chaps 180 and 181. I recommend reading the Karma update first ;)

Five months. That’s how long it took to _finally_ get solid confirmation. Confirmation Flatwheel would have gotten _sooner_ , if Sentinel hadn’t been keeping him busy with ‘other’ projects. It appeared the Prime had been getting a little paranoid: he had ‘requested’ that he inspect every possible entrance into his fancy palace, for instance.

That had been time consuming and Flatwheel had become quite sick of looking at blueprints and various other diagrams by the time he was done. He had noted a couple of suspicious areas and made the appropriate ‘recommendations’ to the needed parties. Flatwheel didn’t really care about whether or not Crosshair’s is ‘rescued’ by Team Prime or their allies. Such a rescue attempt, however, he did recognize as an opportunity to gather evidence against said parties. Thus, Flatwheel’s ‘recommendations’ were tailored for that goal: if the Enforcers succeeded in _capturing_ any would-be rescuers…a happy bonus!

Once most of the ‘Sentinel priority’ projects had been dwelt with, he was able to start checking up on other projects and interests. The results he got from the Quintesson lab, for instance, had been _very_ interesting. The team had found Shifter CNA along the walls of a partly collapsed passage, for instance. It was an easy process of elimination to determine who that was: after all, there was only _one_ free Shifter right now and that meant it was highly likely the other ‘intruders’ were Wreckers. Still circumstantial, but every little bit helps to build a case against them.

The other thing found was more of a curiosity. Why would the Quintessons keep something like that in timelock? It didn’t seem to have any use to him in terms of his goals, at least at present, so he had it sent to an old rival of Shockwave. With the request to not damage it, of course.

Getting updates from Ultra Magnus, however, had been more frustrating. The Wrecker Commander had not been answering, nor returning, his calls. He understood the mech was a busy bot and all, but one would have thought he would know a call from the _Inquisitor_ would require prompt response. Flatwheel ultimately had to pay the Commander a face-to-face visit and force an update out of him.

Turned out the usually stoic mech was having a bit of a…crisis of faith, so to speak. He had, indeed, finally pinned down the rogue Wreckers, but apparently only because Ebonscream desired to talk to him. Flatwheel could tell Ultra Magnus wasn’t telling him _everything_ , but what he did tell was revealing as is.

Ebonscream a founding member. Bonded to Wheeljack. Had a desire to return the Wreckers to their original purpose. The first put what authority Ultra Magnus had on the Wreckers on shaky ground. The last strongly suggested open opposition to slavery, thus to Sentinel’s rule. The second…while surprising, suited his _plans_ to counter Ebonscream perfectly.

He had told the Commander a little lie…one that had ignited the former Elite Guard’s furor for justice once more. Once more Flatwheel offered Enforcer assistance in tracking them down, but Ultra Magnus refused…at least direct help. He _did_ agree with receiving any intel the Enforcers came upon about their whereabouts, with a pledge to contact him once they were found.

Now the waiting game. Flatwheel had been tempted to put out some rumors that they were going to hit Flashwing’s owners, as that would surely bring the Wreckers out of hiding, but he held off. So far, those three hadn’t shown any indication they were going to flee, so he could afford to wait a bit longer on that angle.

There was another potential loose thread that should be dwelt with, he knew. Flatwheel lifted up the datapad with the latest report on said individual. That mech, according to the report, had yet to act suspicious in any form, but Flatwheel’s tank told him it was only a matter of time. After all, the lab investigation team had found no evidence of any gas leaks, or anything else that would have caused Solarcut to go mad. Another case of ‘paying back a debt’ perhaps? He intended to leave that ‘thread’ dangling a bit longer though, wait for the right opportunity.

A potential sign of growing resistance was the incident at the ruins that occurred not that long ago. One of the establishments that held a large number of slaves permitted one of their clients to ‘hunt’ one of slaves for sport. Unfortunately, that hunt was interrupted by an outside party. More unfortunate, the victim only remembered seeing something ‘tall and black’ before being knocked out. The only other evidence was the slave’s collar, which had been cut off cleanly. 

It had been a blatant thief of property, but unfortunately, they had gotten away with it. All Flatwheel could do was highly recommend such places use better security for such ‘events’. Perhaps he should consider recommending such events be disallowed, due to the ‘rescue opportunities’ they presented. Same with ‘slave sharing’, for that matter. If such thefts were made more difficult in the future, it may make-

A bit of commotion outside his office caught his attention. He was just starting to stand up to go see what was going on when Sentinel himself burst in. Oh scrap, something must have happened: the Prime was _livid_.

“My _pet_ has been _stolen_!” the Prime declared with a fierce snarl.

Ah, so someone _did_ come for Crosshairs…and successfully from the sound of things. “Were there any witnesses to the act?” he asked calmly.

“I’m more concerned that they _got in_ in the first place!” Sentinel snapped, then pointed a finger at him. “You _assured_ me the palace was _secure_!”

Flatwheel had to stop himself from scoffing with disapproval over the Prime’s sense of priorities. “My Lord, what I had reported to you upon finishing my assessment of the palace grounds security was that I _did_ find some potential problem areas. Areas I _did_ make appropriate recommendations to improve those areas to the relevant parties. I cannot account for all possible venues of _incompetence_ among the security staff.” He folded his arms. “The _who_ that was responsible for this act is also a factor to take into consideration. I assure you I will investigate the matter and apply appropriate punishments as needed.”

The Prime was still seething a bit, but at least he seemed to have calmed a bit. Time to…provide a distraction….

“That said,” he began with a smirk as pulled out a holodisk. “I have a suggestion on a new plaything for you to…train.” Flatwheel flipped the disk on, activating a hologram of Rustshift. From the widening of Sentinel’s optics, he definitely remembered him. 

“Yes…yes…,” Sentinel cooed, staring at the hologram. “He will do nicely…the possibility for entertainment is nearly endless with one like him….” Primus…was the Prime already starting to drool with anticipation? He then looked up at him sharply. “How soon can you…fetch him…for me?”

“Acquiring him should be an easy matter. As a bonus, with the proper arrangements his acquisition could be used to potentially expose traitors to your reign, my Liege….”

“Do it.” Sentinel decreed. Flatwheel smirked in response….

**Author's Note:**

> Updates Sat and Wed.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Attempting Escape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507210) by [Echovous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echovous/pseuds/Echovous)




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